


Falling

by atrees



Category: A Practical Guide to Evil - erraticerrata
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-03-01 00:52:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18789691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atrees/pseuds/atrees
Summary: After Second Liesse, Catherine reluctantly finds herself growing closer to her most hated enemy. [Cat/Akua, minor Cat/Vivienne and Cat/Indrani]





	1. Rule of Three

A/N: This is a Cat/Akua fic, with a bit of Cat/Vivienne and Cat/Indrani thrown into the mix. The story takes place after Book 3 and mostly follows canon events for the first half, but will diverge later on. There is a lot of implied F/F sex. Nothing explicit, but it's rated M for a reason.

Chapter One: Rule of Three

The queen's bedroom lay at the top of the castle. Ostensibly, it belonged to me, but I had never quite been able to call it mine. Something about all the silk and oak furniture and the sheer sizeof it, larger than the entire west wing of my old orphanage, never made me comfortable. Indrani often decried our lack of opulence for a team of supposed villains, and she had a point, but the only one of us who'd been born a noble now rubbed shoulders with thieves and smugglers in the slums. All of us, I think, felt more comfortable sleeping in a tent than a palace.

Not that I needed sleep any more. Throwing the Mantle of Woe against the bed, I shrugged off my armor – most improper attire for a queen, but I had made it clear to Kendall I would _not_ be wearing dresses – and sank into my chair. The day had been long. We had received news that the Proceran army had finally breached the Whitecaps and began their march on Harrow. My war council had erupted at the news. Juniper was adamant we could defend Harrow, but I had pushed to abandon the city. Even a victory would leave our army crippled for the rest of the Crusade, and with a Hell Egg so close I was even less inclined to risk a battle. The Callowan officials had not taken the news well. Talbot and his Regals had pestered me endlessly to reconsider, and they would still be knocking on my doors had I not made it clear that the next fool who questioned my decision would be sent to the gallows.

Queenship, I thought bitterly. Gods, to think people actually wanted this job.

But those were the troubles of the day, and though I no longer needed sleep I still needed a break. I warmed my hands by the fire, more out of habit than need. There were a few hours left until dawn.

"I grant you leash. I grant you eyes and ears, tongue and feet, at my sufferance."

The shade of Akua Sahelian rose from my bed. She wore the same clothes I killed her in, the same tight dress of red and gold, and I glimpsed my bookcase through that same hole in her chest. I felt her soul as a prick on the edge of consciousness, like a cut on your hand you didn't notice until you looked at it. She would be a part of me forever now, but that was a price I had paid willingly.

"Good evening, my love," she said, bowing deeper than she had to, and her dress was cut low. "What will it be tonight? The Age of Wonders? The Secret Histories? Terribilis the First?"

"Sorcerous."

"Ah, the last Tyrant to wage war against Procer. You have a deeper meaning here, I imagine."

"If I wanted to hear someone guess my intentions, I'd wake up Talbot," I snapped. For a shade with no more power than a puff of air, she was entirely too smug.

Laughing, Akua began to speak. Her voice was deep and musical and precise in its enunciation, crafted, like every other part of her, to be perfect. She spoke of Sorcerous's rise to power, his establishment of the first Mage's College, his experiments in necromancy, and finally his ill-waged war against Procer that lead to his downfall. I leaned back in my chair, eyes closed, letting the story wash over me – and it was as much a story as the books I used to hide beneath my pillow in the orphanage. Akua was a born orator, and she lectured me with the same eloquence she had used to politick the death of her enemies. Her upbringing had familiarized her with every Tyrant since the Miezan Occupation. A not unnatural leaning, for someone who once – and very likely still – aimed for that same throne.

I had struggled with what to do with Akua's soul. The safest thing would be to lock it in a safe and throw it in the Tyrian Sea, but that would've defeated the entire purpose of my claiming it. As much as I despised Akua, she was too useful to kill. I had found a use for her during my talks with Cordelia Hasenbach, but I was reluctant to let Akua in on too much of what was going on. To the Diabolist, knowledge was as much a weapon as magic. In the end, I contented to learn from her. Akua was a natural teacher and a wealth of information on all things Praesi, even if she was insufferably proud of the Empire's atrocities. Furthermore, although I was allied with Praes now, I was under no illusion that would last.

"When the last and greatest of the flying fortresses fell over Brabant, Sorcerous grew more enraged. He ordered fifty thousand executions to raise another undead army, but by then the war had dragged for two decades with nothing to show for it but empty coffers. The Chancellor brought Sorcerous to the execution grounds where the condemned awaited, and as the necromancy ritual began, he slit Sorcerous's throat. And so the greatest mage in five hundred years, surrounded by wards at the seat of his power, died by a knife at the hands of a man who couldn't tell apart a ghost from a wight. Now, my love, what have you learned from this story?"

Torches crackled on the walls, and down the hall my guards shifted noisily in their armor. Akua sat in front of me on a chair made from nothing, wearing the patient expression of a teacher with a loved but slow-witted pupil. The dim light made living shadows of her hair and brought to relief the high set of her cheekbones, and I wondered if her transition to shade had not granted her a degree of freedom over her appearance, more malleable for all her transience, because I didn't remember her looking this beautiful when I tore out her heart.

"The invasion dragged on. It started well, and if Sorcerous drove the momentum for all it was worth, he might've crushed Procer in a single overwhelming strike. But he dawdled, and the First Prince gathered the country beneath his banner. After that, Sorcerous never won another victory."

"I give that answer half-credit. As always, you dwell too much on trivialities. Sorcerous's mistake was spending all his attention on war. He let the Court have too much leeway, and so sealed his own doom. The lesson here is that though they may be your allies, you must be even more ruthless to them than your enemies."

"You know, I can't help but feel we're taking away different lessons from this."

She smiled, dark and secretive.

"Such is the difference between a queen and a warlord, and it is the former that forges history."

Faking a yawn, Akua arched back in a way that thrust her chest forward, as if a shade could get kinks. She slinked behind me, resting one hand on my shoulder. The entire weight of her matched less than that of a feather. Bending down, she spoke softly into my ear, "You seem tense, my love. Even if you do not want my advice, there are…other ways I can serve you."

Her hand grabbed her throat. She gave a strangled cry. "I meant no disrespect – " she said, and tore out her own throat. Even as the blood evaporated into whatever realm shades dwelt, the wound had already healed.

"Back in the box, Diabolist. "

She vanished like a thought, and for a long time, I watched the fire.

* * *

The nightingales had come out by the time I closed the book. _Chronicles of Levantine, Vol. 3._ For a country that was only a couple of hundred years old, Levant had more history than it had any right to. More than ever I missed my Learn aspect. If I ever got another Name, screw sharpened senses or fancy sword skills or regeneration – I'd settle for something that made chores less dull. I crept deeper into my blankets, pretending, for a moment, that I was asleep. The body may not have needed sleep, but a mind, I thought, was not made to churn relentlessly without pause. Every time I was alone, the weight of my mistakes – Liesse and Arcadia and William and a thousand more – bore down, and there were no dreams to escape to. Rest was a luxury even peasants took, but which queens could not afford.

It was two o'clock, which meant the night was still young.

"I grant you leash. I grant you eyes and ears, tongue and feet, at my sufferance."

Akua appeared from the Mantle hanging off the coathook. Her eyes searched the room before landing on the pile of blankets on my bed.

"Is that you under there, Catherine? If you're not wearing clothes, don't worry. I don't mind."

I thought about making her tear out her throat again, but it didn't seem worth the effort. She laid down next to me, and I felt her presence more as a blip in my web of senses than any true physical proximity. Realms, after all, could not be judged by distance. She could be right next to me and still be further away than the other side of the ocean. More than once I had wondered what she did to pass the time trapped in my cloak.

"It's been a few days, my love. Busy lately?"

"As much as I enjoy your history lessons, I have more pressing matters. Like a godsdamned Crusade. What do you know about the Grey Pilgrim?"

Her confusion rippled faintly. "The Levantine Hero? That's a bit beyond my scope. Praes hasn't so much as glanced at Levant in decades."

I figured as much. For all her education, Akua's knowledge was narrow. If it didn't involve summoning demons or invading something or a Tyrant getting backstabbed, she knew as much as your average Callowan schoolmarm. I debated how much to tell her. No doubt it would bite me later on. Akua would burn down the house if you gave her so much as a speck of sulfur. But I couldn't afford to sidestep future dangers when the Crusade loomed so close.

I told Akua what Vivienne had told me earlier: that fourteen heroes had joined the Crusade, which was fourteen too many, among them the Grey Pilgrim and the equally mysterious Saint of Swords. Of the Saint, there was little information; her only achievement had been killing a prince before disappearing for forty years. The Grey Pilgrim concerned me. He was a legend and a nobody. He was everywhere and nowhere. He appeared in almost every chapter of _Chronicles of Levant,_ but there was nothing concrete to go on. He gave advice to kings as easily as alms to the poor, appearing at times to stop a war, at other times to start one. He was some sort of wandering priest, that much I gathered, but what his skills or goals were I had no idea. The Levantines saw him as a demigod. Of second-hand accounts, I would never run out: he had stopped a tsunami, he had returned the dead to life, he had cradled a star in his palms.

"If he was capable of all that, he would've wiped out Evil years ago," Akua said. "Commoners are always easily swayed by legends. Give them no thought."

"First-hand accounts put him at over a hundred years old. Heroes aren't supposed to live that long."

"Think about it from another perspective. You said he was the reason Levant joined the Crusade. You do not need to defeat forty thousand Levantines, then – just one man. And once Levant is out of the war, the rest will fall apart like a stack of dominos. Nobody is without weakness, and you have a delicious appetite for seeking those out."

Something shifted; Akua had crept behind me under the blankets. I tensed, but did not tell her to go. Her words held a certain promise. Levant's relations with Procer mirrored that of Callow with Praes, if not worse. Procer had occupied Levant for two hundred years before being driven out by the founding heroes. It had been centuries ago, but histories were not forgotten easily, and wasn't that just the perfect oath for Calernia? I did not even need to beat the Grey Pilgrim. If I could drive a wedge between him and Procer, it would split would the Crusade from within.

"You seem like you have a plan, my love."

"Occasionally, you say some things that make me glad I didn't crush your soul along with that blasted fortress."

"A gift most appreciated," Akua murmured. "You spared my life when you could've killed me, when all your allies howled for my death. Mercy is a gift Praesi do not accept lightly."

For a while we lay in silence, and it was almost pleasant to have a mass murderer next to me. Her fingers stroked my hair. I wore only a thin undershirt. This was the closest we'd ever been save that time I was literally arm-deep in her chest. I should've dismissed her – I had no more use for her, I had gotten all I wanted, there was no point in keeping her around, anything she learned could only be detrimental further down the line. She inched closer, breasts pushing into my back. A dare. I could destroy her with an ounce of exertion of will. Her breaths fluttered on the nape of my neck, as if shades needed to breath. One hand traced the hollow of my throat. The other lingered on my ear. She kissed my jaw.

A violent tempest of will, like cracking a finger with a warhammer. I caught a glimpse of her face, more amused than disappointed, and she was whisked away back into the cloak.

A long shudder ran through me. I knew that even if I did need sleep, I would not get any of it tonight.

* * *

We came down on the Procerans like a blizzard. Fae laughter cackling in the night, the riders of the Hunt stormed through soldiers still sleeping in their tents, and it was as much a slaughter as any I'd ever seen. And I, too, was laughing. These fools dared invade _my_ kingdom under the guise of Good? The fae rode towards the officers' tents while I held back the heroes, and it seemed like the first battle of the Crusade's western theater would end before it ever began.

Until the Sword Saint showed up.

I got annihilated. I didn't have so much pride that I wouldn't admit it. All the might of Winter behind me in the prime of my youth, and I got kicked around like a puppy by an old woman waving a stick. I couldn't even blame the Heavens; whatever Laurence de Montfort had done to get so powerful, she did it, I think, through her own strength. In the end, however, Operation Headhunt ended in victory. After all, one-on-one duels were what stupid – and dead – heroes did. The minute the last of the markers vanished above the officers' tents, the Hunt and I retreated back to Arcadia, leaving behind a score of dead Procerans and some very pissed-off Heroes.

I ran a hand along my arm. It had bruised during my fight with the Saint of Swords, but there was no trace of it now. Masego had said she had cut a part of Winter itself.

For a moment, I had been mortal.

Almost without thought, I called out Akua. It happened more and more frequently now, our little chats. She stepped into the tent as if she were an invitee at a ball and not a meddlesome spirit I called on when I felt like it. Tonight she wore a dark blue dress that left one leg bare, and she had done something with her hair so it cascaded down her back in ringlets. Really, she had too much time in my cloak.

"Good evening, my love – you're hurt!"

Horror painted across her face, almost believable. I shoved off her embrace. The fake concern was so ostentatious as to be insulting. I didn't ask how she knew I'd been hurt, just as she didn't ask me how I had been hurt. We treasured our silences, she and I. Like a worried widow, she clasped my arm to her chest, right over the hollow where her heart used to be, and the way my fingers brushed against her breasts was too calculated to be natural. Ever since that night she crept into my bed, she had gotten more brazen with her intimacy. The fault was mine, I knew. I should've been sterner. I should've laid clear the line between us: queen and servant, slave and master. Against one who held absolute power over another, there could be no other relationship. But as she rested her head on my shoulder in the wake of a slaughter that would make Tyrants envious, it was pleasant to imagine she cared.

"What'll it be tonight? Shall we pick up the story of Terribilis II?"

"Tell me about Liesse."

Her face went blank, the closest to surprise that slipped between her facades. We rarely talked about Liesse. There was little to talk about. More than anyone else in the world, we understood what had happened in the halls of that flying fortress. The subject was always understood and occasionally danced around, and the fact she was a shade living by my whim communicated more than words ever could.

(It helped, of course, that whenever she brought it up, I made her swallow her tongue.)

"I didn't take you to be interested in Trismegistan sorcery."

"Tell me what you wanted. What your goal was, what you felt was worth killing a city."

"You know it as well as I do."

"I need to hear it from your mouth."

"Did I need a reason?" Akua spoke with relish, and I fought the urge to throttle her. "Does anyone need a reason to crush another underfoot? I would've claimed the Tower, as is the birthright of every Praesi, and I would've ushered a new Age of Wonders, and our conquest would've toppled the world. But those are excuses, excuses. There has only ever been one truth in the world. Power. The pursuit of it is its own reward. I destroyed Liesse because I was stronger than Liesse, and you destroyed me because you were stronger than me. You see the consequences of my madness. Even now parents tell stories of it to scare their children. In a hundred years the word _Liesse_ will be a curse. I turned the city from a footnote into the greatest atrocity of our age. And even in defeat, there was glory."

She bared her pride like a blade. Though I already knew all that she had said, her words comforted me in my fear. Her eyes danced triumphantly. She expected me to make her tear out her throat. I understood her a bit better now, I think. All those times she had spoken of her _experiment_ as if it had been a game, making light of a hundred thousand corpses, angering me just enough to torture her – it had been on purpose. She relished in making me hurt. It was a reminder she still had power. For the Praesi, there was only one sin worse than defeat: to be forgotten.

"We had a great victory today," I said.

"I'm glad, my love."

"I rode with the Hunt into the enemy camp, and we slaughtered almost the entirety of their officers. Most were still sleeping. We killed them in their beds. During the chaos, Thief emptied their stores. Now they have to march on Hedges or starve. When they reach us, they will be exhausted, hungry, their chain of command broken. Their fifty thousand will break on our fortifications like rats into a wolf's jaws, and if they defeat us it will only be by choking us with their corpses."

"There's no need to feel guilty," Akua said, already sensing where I was headed. "These people are invading your homeland. They'd do the same to you without a second thought."

"During my battle with the Saint of Swords, she cut away part of Winter. For a moment, I lost my alienation. And what I saw terrified me. I was murdering tens of thousands, and my only concern was that I couldn't do it more efficiently. It was like waking up. But the moment passed. Winter healed, as it always did, and I no longer felt horror. But the fear remained. How much of me is me, and how much of it is Winter? And the scariest part was that maybe there was no difference. I began to wonder if I was starting down the same path you did – from summoning a small devil to opening a Hell Gate. Did you ever have that moment of realization, staring in the mirror? But now I know for certain. No matter what I become, I will never become you."

The words came out like a sigh, like taking off your boots after a long day's march. I could never have told this to anyone else, not Masego, not Black, not Hakram. There were things you could tell your worst enemy that you wouldn't tell your friend. Because though the Diabolist was the Diabolist – _because_ the Diabolist was the Diabolist – I could tell her anything, and she had no choice but to accept it. She would bear all my sins, because her own made mine a drop in the well.

Closing my eyes, I drifted the closest I had ever been to a dream: a golden field beneath a vivid sun. When I opened my eyes, Akua stood in front of me.

She reached behind her back, and her dress fell down to the floor.

"Whatever you are, my love, whatever you will become, I will follow you to the ends of Creation."

She bent down and kissed me, and I did not resist. She led me to the bed, and I did not resist, and she unbuckled my armor, and that, too, I helped her with. The shame did not come until later, when we both lay on the bed exhausted and sweaty – shades, it seemed, still bore that flaw – and I ran a hand over the impressive curve of her breasts, and I drew back as if burnt. I ordered her to claw out her heart. She did so with a smile, but by that point I could no longer bear to look at her, and with a choked sob threw her back into the Mantle.


	2. Plunge

Chapter Two: Plunge

For four days, Akua remained locked in her box. It was not shame, I told myself. Preparations for the defense of Hedges took up all my time even up to the early hours of dawn. The Proceran army outnumbered us by more than two to one with fourteen heroes besides, but those were typical odds for Callow; the difficulty came in not destroying too much of either side. Winning by too wide a margin would burn every bridge to diplomacy with Hasenbach. As the Proceran army approached, we finished our fortifications and put the last touches on our battle strategy and outlined our terms of negotiation, until I could no longer put off the final part of my plan: my contingency.

"I grant you leash. I grant you eyes and ears, tongue and feet, at my sufferance."

Akua rose from the cloak discarded across the chair. She wore the most audacious outfit I'd seen her wear yet: a red dress so tight it was practically a second skin, cut so slow the entirety of her wound was visible, almost as if she were showing it off. The moment she appeared, she rushed towards me.

"My love, if I've done something to offend you – "

Her nails dug into her eyes. It was a curious thing, to watch someone maim themselves. I made her do it for longer than I ever had, and it only made it worse, the delusion I could erase what occurred between us if I just made her _hurt_. I made her eat her own fingers. I made her claw open her stomach. I made her bend her leg back until it snapped. Her pain was a hot wire coursing through my own mind. This time, I could believe her screams were genuine. Gasping, she fell to her knees, and when she stood back up, she did not approach me again.

"You understand the contingency," I said coldly. "In the event I'm incapacitated, you are only to act when all my other safeguards have failed."

Wordlessly, she nodded.

"You will do your best to act like me. You will obey Vivienne's every instruction. Nobody else will know it's you wearing my skin, or otherwise there will be _consequences_ when I'm back in control."

"Is that all?"

Her expression turned smooth without a trace of her earlier pain. _Is that all?_ No, it wasn't, you psychotic excuse for a demonspawn. You know exactly why I called you tonight. You had dressed for the occasion. Even as she had clawed open her stomach, my eyes rested on her breasts, her hips, her screaming lips. Shame burned my chest like goblinfire. Gods, this was worse than that blasted Choir of Contrition. At least back then, my guilt had been of Heaven's work. There was an unbearable self-assurance in her gaze as she watched me struggle, and I bit my lip hard enough to tear. It shouldn't have been like this. I had taken every precaution, bound her with so many oaths even the Dead King himself would cry.

So why did it feel like I was the one trapped?

"Marker," I snapped. " **I compel you to answer my questions truthfully and completely."**

A shiver passed through her.

"Have you walled off any memories or knowledge, or considered doing so?"

"I have not."

"Do you have any holes in your memories?"

She concentrated.

"I do not."

"Have you plotted or acted against my interests?"

"I have not."

"Why did you seduce me?"

She smirked. "The way you look at me is obvious. You have a known weakness for powerful women. I know you have difficulty remaining emotionally uninvolved when in a sexual relationship. If we become lovers, it's a certainty you will grant me more freedom."

"How much of it is genuine?"

"All of it is genuine, my love."

I ground my teeth. I wasn't sure what answer I had wanted.

"Why?"

"I cannot give a satisfactory answer."

"Try."

She hesitated.

"It began even before Arcadia," she began slowly. "After you handed me a crushing defeat at First Liesse, I thought about why I had lost, why all my carefully-crafted plans had been trampled like a debutante's first attempt at intrigue. Gods Below, you blackmailed a _Choir_. I hated you, and the more I hated you, the more I admired you. I grew mad and obsessed, the two great mothers of invention, and from my madness and my obsession was birthed Second Liesse. You were its parent as much as I, my love. A flying fortress that put even the Age of Wonders to shame, backed by the power of a Hell Gate not seen since the Dead King's ascension. And beyond all realms of possibility, you defeated me again. You had help, of course, but in my fortress I was half a god. All the armies of Creation together could not have touched me. It was not arrogance to think myself invincible. It was truth. And yet you beat me. You gave up your own soul to Winter to do it, and that was when, I think, you won my heart."

She looked at me with madness in her eyes, and I realized my mistake: I should've killed her. I should've shattered her soul stone and strangled in the crib the child she planned to reincarnate in to. All Named were mad, I was once told. That I hadn't noticed her madness probably spoke volumes about my own. I thought I could control her? That misunderstanding had been born of the most egregious assumption I ever made – that she had a heart to begin with.

There was still time to rectify my mistake. She had not yet grown beyond her restraints. With a thought I could end the threat of Akua Sahelian forever.

And yet as I studied her proud face by candlelight, I thought about our lessons together, and I remembered the softness of her skin, and I remembered the coldness of my Mantle as I read alone in my tent, not out of enjoyment or even a true desire to learn, but because there had been nothing else to do. The war camp, twenty-two thousand strong, slept silently. What did I have to be scared of? She could hurt me no more than a sword could stab its owner. My fingers closed around an imaginary heart that had once been crushed like a pomegranate beneath my fist. It would've been easier if she had all been fake. Then I could take her or leave her at my leisure. Once the Rule of Three had bound us tighter than sisters. She was a monster, but what right did I have to judge? I would need monsters for my wars.

" **From the word 'Marker,'** **you will remember this conversation as nothing.** "

She blinked, briefly startled, then coolness came back to her. I drummed my fingers against the chair. An itch had started between my shoulder blades.

"You're a tool to me, Diabolist."

"Of course," she said demurely.

"No, you still don't get it. You are less than a tool, because at least with a hammer I don't need to worry about it plotting to kill me. The only reason I spared your life was because death is too kind for you. You're going to pay for every man and woman and child and _dog_ you killed, and us Callowans, I'm told, always collect our dues. I will wring you dry. I will use you until your mind and body are spent, until there is nothing left of you but ash, until you _beg_ me for release, and then and only then, when the world has no need of monsters like us, will I let you die."

It had been as much of a promise as a marriage vow. She bowed, but not so deep I didn't see her smile of triumph.

When she rose, her face bore complete serenity at what was about to come.

"Strip," I commanded.

* * *

The second time was easier, and the third, fourth, fifth. Each time, the shame became less. Even as the Proceran army appeared below the mountains, I stole the nights away with Akua. We slept together a thousand feet from the battlefield where soldiers bled. She was the most beautiful person I had ever been with. That much I admitted without reservation. The sympathetic link between us intensified every touch, and I suspected contact allowed her to regain some physical sensation; certainly her flesh felt _solid_. In many ways, she was the perfect lover. She was always available, completely subservient, and sought only to please me, even if I had never been satisfied with just receiving.

It was not love, not even the bastardized version of love I had shared with Kilian, but it would have to do.

Our only interruption came during that period of slumber wrought upon me by the Grey Pilgrim. One by one my contingencies failed, and I felt stupid for even considering that the worst _wouldn't_ come to pass. When had the Heavens ever passed on a chance to screw me over? But Akua had done well, I had to admit. She had fared even better than I had against the Saint of Swords, digging deep enough into Winter to wake me from my nightmare. In the middle of the carnage, I struck a truce with Rozala Malanza, and following the diplomatic claptrap that ensued, the Battle of the Camps finally came to an end.

"You achieved everything you wanted, didn't you?" Akua said. "You forced a truce with minimal casualties on either side. You even bought us fourteen months' grace. Deciding to join the Grand Alliance was a diplomatic stroke of genius, even if I _do_ suspect you came up with it on the spot. So why are you so unsatisfied? I hope it's not because of me, my love."

We lay in bed, blanket half-draped over our bodies. She pressed against my side, and absentmindedly I stroked her back, enjoying the occasional shiver that ran through her. She was right. Objectively speaking, I had gotten all I wanted and more. With luck, Black would turn back Papenheim at the Red Flower Vales, and even if he didn't, the enemy would be so bled they couldn't hope to invade further into Callow. The western theater of the Crusade was as good as over. But anger still burned inside me as strongly as it had during my truce talk with Prince Amadis Milenan. We had drawn concessions from each other as duelists drew blood. It had not been Winter that wanted the heads of the entire Proceran delegation on pikes. It was not until after, when Amadis and the Grey Pilgrim were safely in our custody and the Proceran army finally began their retreat, that I understood why.

"They didn't _pay_."

"Now that's just greedy," Akua said with a sigh.

"They march into _my_ kingdom, they slaughter _my_ soldiers, they divvy out Callow like it's some sort of pig to be slaughtered, and now they just get to turn back like nothing's happened? Amadis is probably even going to be hailed as a hero. He's in the middle of my camp and I can't do a blasted thing to him. And the Grey Pilgrim, that geriatric sack of bones, tried to kill me when I was holding a truce banner. And he pretends like it never happened! _Goblins_ have a stronger code of honor. Gods, I've never met someone so infuriatingly self-righteous in my life."

"I think I know someone like that."

I glared at her. She laughed, and I pressed my palm into her back, letting out a pulse of Winter. She yelped, lurching into me.

"Oh, my love, you never were one for compromise."

Akua's foray into Winter had returned some of her essence. She felt…weightier, not quite a person, but no longer just a shade. The wound on her chest had healed fully, smooth, flawless, dark flesh. When I touched it there was still no heartbeat. Not that I had any room to complain. It was dangerous, I knew (as Vivienne kept reminding me), for Akua to gain power, even if that power bound us even closer.

"Like what you see?" she teased. "Though personally, I preferred it the way it was before."

"You liked having a hole in your chest?"

"It marked me yours, my love."

I kissed her, because though Akua's seduction was plain to see she was damn good at it. Once I had tasted a tangerine. A merchant from the Free Cities had stopped by, and the matron, that stern pufferfish, had used her own money to buy us a crate. I still remembered the sweetness, the stickiness of the juice on my fingers, and though I've since eaten more tangerines – and more exotic fruits besides, such were the benefits of being queen – nothing approached the same sweetness. The taste of Akua came close, mixed with something absinthian besides, and even the knowledge I was falling into her trap did nothing to dilute the headiness of that wine, sharper and harsher than all the liquor I had given up.

* * *

"What is the Fourfold Crossing?"

Akua looked up from her book. She sat on a cushion of air, legs crossed tantalizingly, not that I had been looking. Hey, we didn't have sex _all_ the time. We still took our lessons, though admittedly much truncated and usually ending up on the bed. But tonight, I had been determined to brush up on my Reitz, a language so convoluted not even Akua had been familiar with it. With a satisfactory slam, I shut the book, content that I would never, ever understand it. Of course, I hadn't needed to bring out Akua just to study Reitz by myself, but my evenings with the shade had become routine. My heart gave another guilty little flop. Everything was no doubt going as she planned. I knew, and still I couldn't resist her. There was a Proceran saying, I told myself, about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer.

Akua had asked for something to read, and I had thrown her a copy of _The Labyrinth Empire, or, A Short History of Procer_. If I was going to be suffering through Reitz, she was damn well going to suffer alongside me.

"You're talking about the little surprise I prepared for you in Liesse," Akua said. "A strange time to bring it up."

"Just tell me."

A mistake. My voice came out colder than intended, and immediately she was on her guard.

"What would you like to know?"

"How likely are the visions? As in, how likely is it that what I saw would come to pass?"

She clicked her tongue. "As always, you skip to conclusions without understanding the basics. To understand the Fourfold Crossing, you have to understand its progenitor. The Onefold Crossing – or just the Crossing, as it was previously known – is a trivial piece of magic only good for delaying. Inevitably, the victim will defeat the vision. But once you add another layer, you get the Twofold Crossing, which is a rarefaction of the original field – "

"It's been a while since you swallowed your tongue, hasn't it?"

" – made exponentially harder by adding more layers," Akua continued smoothly. "In summary, in order to beat the Twofold Crossing, not only must you defeat both visions, but you have to do so at the same time. Any hesitation, and the next chance might not come for years. Same with the Threefold Crossing, which is the highest layer previously attempted. In my case, I took it one step further, and – "

"Has anyone told you you're insufferable when you talk about magic?"

"The most divine of tools, my love. Shame you were not born with the Gift."

She made a choking noise, and it would never grow old, watching someone try to swallow their tongue.

"Answer my question."

"The Crossing projects a reflection of your own mind. The vision necessarily needs to be believable, or else the victim will realize it's all false. After all, once you realize you're in a dream, you hold complete power over that dream. You should understand, then, that the realistic possibility of the vision is beside the point. The visions are what _you_ believe to be possible."

The White Knight. The Tolltaker. General Foundling. Three lives I had never lived and one I was living. I had begun humming again. The tune was nostalgic, even if I'd never heard it before. If Masego was right and there really did exist infinite Realms beyond Creation, then those other Catherines were out there, too, generals and heroes and queens of thieves. And they would've seen what I had seen, substituted, of course, with the Squire, but the end would've been the same, that fourfold fear that was all the more terrible for its feasibility.

"You look troubled, my love. Perhaps it would help if you told me what it is you saw."

_Dread Empress Magnificent, crowned in dread._

"A giant spider."

"Now I know your greatest weakness," Akua monotoned. "At least tell me how you got through. I've still never been able to figure it out. The Black Knight spent three months trapped in the Threefold Crossing, and only escaped because Apprentice pulled him out. By all estimates, it should've taken you centuries – ah."

Grabbing her wrist, I pulled her into a kiss. "It's quite a heroic tale," I said sagely, hoisting her up bridal-style, "how Catherine Foundling conquered a giant spider. _Four_ giant spiders. Truly a story for the ages. Full of epic swordfights and dastardly villains and well-endowed damsels in distress. But if my eyes don't deceive me, the sun's coming up soon, and I know what I'd rather be doing."


	3. Interlude: Keter

Interlude: Keter

The journey to the Kingdom of the Dead was long and bleak, but to Akua, it was like finally going outside after being locked in a cage. Which was an apt description of her situation, even if she loved her jailer. Arcadia itself had been warped by the Dead King's apotheosis, and they passed endless repeating fragments of histories: soldiers killing each other over and over, rituals that began anew each day, the same actors acting out the same play. It was as magnificent a procession as could be expected, Akua thought. Shame she had to share it with the other members of the Woe.

Akua herself notwithstanding, her queen had poor taste in companions. Archer was a hedonist who tried to grope her at every opportunity. Vivienne, at least, could keep her hands to herself (the irony of the statement was not lost on Akua), but she bled power like a poorly-wrought summoning circle. It was a wonder the others still hadn't realized they no longer referred to her as Thief. Plus, the way Vivienne looked at her queen…On the other end, the orc was painfully transparent. He lived to serve, a not ignoble trait, but the Praesi had never valued _blind_ loyalty except among menial servants. Iron could not sharpen itself against bronze. In the end, the only member of the Woe that had any great worth was Masego, and Masego was…Masego.

They'll all have to go, Akua thought idly. Especially Vivienne. Her queen needed nobody except her.

Keter was magnificent. Akua had been raised in the most luxurious palaces villainy could afford, and even Ater might as well as have been a backwater Callowan suburb compared to Keter. The city itself could only be reached by a bridge that sat over a moat of eternal fire. Walls a hundred feet high protected it from any feasible siege, and when they at last crossed the gate, the full city spread out before them, magnificent and mad. Spires stretched to the sky, any one of them a match for the Tower, and the wind howling against those walls like tines sounded like the screams of the dead. No sane architect could've laid out those streets that crisscrossed and doubled back and ended in blind alleys, nor those cathedrals built so close they seemed to be devouring each other. And beyond it all, framed against a sun enormous and burning, sat the massive necropolis – its shadow reached them even here – that served as the earthly seat of the King of the Dead.

But more than the construction, she had been impressed by the social order. As someone with no small amount of experience in necromancy, Akua knew how difficult it was to maintain an undead army without them turning into mindless beasts. Yet the moment the six of them passed the threshold, the teeming undead that filled the streets bowed in unison. Their host, a living called Athal, led them to their quarters, and Akua shivered at the genius of it. A colony of the living bred to become the legions of the dead! Twice the usefulness squeezed from every soul, and they entered their slavery _willingly._

She would learn much here, if she played her cards right.

"Alright," Catherine said. "Tomorrow, we meet with the Dead King. Battle plans, everyone."

They sat in the dining room of the Silent Palace. Like everywhere else in Keter, the place was decadent, though Akua couldn't place its design; it must've been built before the Miezans. The dining table had been too large for the six of them, so Catherine sat at the head with Hakram and Masego at her sides, while Vivienne and Archer lounged on the table. Akua herself floated several feet above them, pointedly ignoring Archer's attempts to look up her skirt.

"A little bit of time outside his Hell in return for destroying our enemies," Archer said. "I almost feel bad about ripping him off."

"Assuming we're correct that he needs an invitation to leave his realm," Hakram said.

"Or that he'll even abide by the rules of our contract," Vivienne said.

"I think he will," Catherine said. "Even gods need to follow their own rules. My plan is three principalities: Hannoven, Cleves, and Hainaut. That would be the limit of his invasion. That would keep Procer on their toes so they wouldn't even think about invading Callow, and provide enough natural defenses that the Dead King can't just bulldoze his way through."

"Once again, you're thinking too narrowly," Akua said. "If the Dead King truly wanted to invade Calernia, he could've found any desperate fool to invite him centuries ago. Yet he chose now."

"What do you mean?"

"Who is the King's greatest enemy?"

"The Bard," Catherine said slowly. "You think he's going out now because the Bard's making her move."

"I don't know," Vivienne said. "Despite what you've told me, Almorava never struck me as anything resembling dangerous."

"Just a hypothesis, my love," Akua said, pointedly ignoring Vivienne. "To someone like the Dead King, territory means nothing. He rules over a greater stretch of hell than all of Calernia combined. We know not his true goal, and that is a poor position to start negotiations."

Catherine's brow furrowed. "That may be, but his argument with the Bard isn't our concern right now. Our job is to protect Callow."

Ruthlessly pragmatic, as always. Her queen's love for her country blinded her. What was so great about a nation of farmers and indolent aristocrats? They bickered long into the night – or day, it was hard to tell in Keter. Mostly the four of them hashed out the final terms of their deal with the Dead King, with the occasional interjection from Archer. Buried in his book, Masego didn't even pretend he was paying attention. A deplorably inefficient way of planning. How had her queen ever managed without her?

"That's as good as we're going to get," Catherine said. "I'm exhausted, and, in case you forgot, I don't need to sleep."

"It'd be nice to finally sleep in a bed," Vivienne said.

"Very nice indeed," Catherine said absentmindedly. She stood up. "I'm heading back to my room. You should get some rest. We're going to need it tomorrow. Let's go, Akua."

The others stared at her.

Catherine coughed. "I mean, I need to, uh, talk with her about…zombies."

She quickly strode away. Shooting Vivienne a smug look, Akua followed. The look Vivienne returned was murderous. Their relationship had not been openly revealed to the Woe, though nobody except Masego could've failed to pick up on it. Hakram had flat-out asked if Catherine wasn't out of her mind. Vivienne burned with silent jealousy. Archer had eagerly asked if she could join, even though Catherine and Akua themselves had not slept together since stepping into Arcadia. Getting time alone had been difficult. On one particularly frustrating night, their moans had prompted Hakram to burst into the tent with axe in hand, asking if they were under attack. They had not tried since. Akua had remarked, quite loudly, that the others wouldn't mind, and Catherine had turned the same red as Stygian wine. For all her carnality, she retained some of her quaint Callowan conservatism. And there was some part of her, Akua was amused to see, that still resisted the idea of bedding the Butcher of Liesse.

But none of that remained when they were alone together, at last, after so many weeks. It had been a slow build-up as they neared their chambers, then the moment the bedroom door closed, Catherine pushed her up against the wall, kissing her neck, one hand jammed up her thigh, while Akua's own fingers fumbled with the straps of Catherine's armor. Gods Below, getting those off were a pain. The touch of her queen brought Akua closer to life, closer to flesh. She shuddered. Souls as intertwined as they were, it was impossible not to be infected by Catherine's hunger, and Catherine by hers, feeding into each other. Many times Akua had been horrified at her own lack of control. Tonight, she had not even the slightest grip on it. But later, later. Her queen demanded obeisance, and Akua obeyed.

Afterwards, they lay against each other in that monstrously large bed decorated by the skulls of what Akua suspected were fae. Akua curled up against that body of steel and corded leather, the opposite of her own. There was no excess on that frame. Her queen saw herself as a weapon, and her name, forgotten as it may be, had sculpted. In the lamplight gleamed the scars she had received before her Naming, before Winter could heal even a decapitated head, from a place she called the Pit. Some sort of blood arena, Akua had gathered. Callowans were so delightfully rustic. Coliseums had been out of style for _decades_. Catherine's hand rested on Akua's chest, occasionally caressing her breasts, and another spasm of desire ran through Akua. But the time had gone. Already her queen looked beyond.

"This may be the biggest mistake I've ever made."

"Oh? I quite enjoyed it."

Catherine rolled her eyes. "I'm talking about the Dead King. There's Evil and there's _Evil_. You were right. We don't know his true goal. We don't know anything about him, except that he has enough armies to pull off ten Crusades of his own. Once we let him out, there's no putting him back in."

"He has his own rules, as you eloquently put. We just need to find out what they are."

Catherine ran a hand through her hair, a gesture so heartbreakingly _tired_ Akua herself felt exhausted. Not for the first time, she realized how little her queen wanted to rule. Catherine still deluded herself into thinking that power was a means to an end. She still thought that once she restored peace to Callow, she could hand off the reigns to someone else, as if power could be cast off like a child at the orphanage. But that was the paradox of power, wasn't it? Frequently it rested in the hands of those that wanted it least. The current Dread Empress had been an innkeeper's daughter, her Black Knight a farmboy, and even Eleanor Fairfax, that great Callowan legend every illiterate shoemaker could spin a dozen stories about, had been a simple knight.

"When do you think it happened? When Neshamah became the Dead king?" Catherine said. "We saw parts of his story, but nothing stood out to me. He always was a ruthless bastard, of course. Would've fit right in Praes. But not the kind of 'I-can-conquer-a-Hell' kind of bastard. Do you think some people were just born to stand at the top of the villain pyramid? Or do you think something happened that made him that way?"

"I once had a cradle-sister."

The words slipped out before Akua realized what she had said. A cursed how feeble she had allowed her defenses to become. Catherine looked at her questioningly. Akua forced her face to remain calm. She hadn't known what prompted her to say it, but her words, once spoken, could not be (as her queen was so fond of saying) put back in the box. So she pulled a page from her queen's playbook and pretended she had meant to say it all along.

Akua told the story of the girl named Zain, the first and only friend she ever had, and her first murder. It was not a story she had ever told anyone else. It was, in fact, forbidden for a Sahelian to tell an outsider what occurred inside the labyrinths beneath Wolof. The memory was washed-out, as if she were reading it from a storybook.

For a long time, her queen was silent, and Akua thought with horror that her queen hated her, or, even worse, pitied her. But the resonance did not vibrate with the low chords of either. The pitch was regret.

"You could've been great," Catherine finally said, "in another timeline, if you had been raised with anything other than that stupid iron mantra. If you had parents who didn't raise you like they sharpened knives. You have the intelligence and gods only know you have the ambition. You could've been the jewel that turned Praes into what it could've been. As long as you promised peace to Callow, I would've served you, whether as general or knight or queen of thieves…it had been so tempting to kneel. I don't think you realize how close to victory you came."

Closing her eyes, Akua forced down the swell of pride. She was a Sahelian yet. The problem was that Catherine made it so easy to serve. She gave you everything you ever wanted, and after a bit of time in her service, you wondered how you could've ever sought anything else. She could see herself happy at her queen's side for the rest of their existence – not only happy but exultant. The two of them could conquer the world. Oh, the _plots_ they would come up with! For all her queen's talk of peace, what was peace but another form of conquest? And after all the business of the day, they would retreat to love at night.

The future was so sublime and perfect that Akua almost wished for it with all her non-existent heart, had not the part of her that was still Praesi rebelled. Akua would never understand her queen's love for a nation of peasants; her queen would never understand Akua's love for an empire of traitors. The two of them were probably more alike than either realized. Millennia of treachery could not – should not – be forgotten. With sadness, Akua knew that she was the last of the truly great villains, and with pride she knew that Evil could not have chosen a more suitable swan song. She would never forget Praes as it was. Even if sometimes it felt like she was the only one who did.

"And what will you do, my love, if the Dead King turns his army on Callow?"

"I will break him, even if I have to burn all the Hells to do it."

Akua suppressed a shiver. The arousal was not as easy to ignore. From anyone else the words would've been empty, but her queen had slain angels and outwitted gods. What was one more apotheosant? Akua pressed herself deeper against her queen and was disappointed when it was not reciprocated. The Tower had been a pathetically short-sighted goal. Her queen could claim it as easily as pinching a spine between her fingers. Why settle for a consolation prize when there existed all of Calernia to rule? And Akua would be at her side, forever the loyal companion, lover, servant, driving her to reach heights yet unseen.

And the more power her queen wielded, the more power Akua would triumphantly take from her.

Sahelians, after all, were not born to serve.


	4. Partings

Chapter 4: Partings

My talk with Cordelia failed, and so we headed to Keter. My talk with the King of the Dead failed, and so we headed to the Everdark. If my talk with the drow failed, I'm not sure where we were going next.

If only winning the alliance of a bunch of backstabbing, murderous drow was all I had to worry about. North of Keter, we camped at a sapphire-blue lake with waters so clear you could see the crabs scuttling along the bottom. At the edges, winds surged restlessly, buffeting the water into miniature tidal waves. My ponytail danced wildly. Indrani had gone spear-fishing – or rather, arrow-fishing – with Hakram, and though they were out of sight, her delighted shrieks carried through the wind. Vivienne and I, heartbroken and nostalgic, reminisced about Callow like it was an old lover, and we somehow began arguing whether Summerholm wine or Vale wine was superior. The answer was, of course, Summerholm wine. The richness of the grapes had no comparison, and age only brought out the fullness of the flavor. Luckily, I had half a cup of the stuff left. After Vivienne drank it, she must've realized her loss, because she promptly fell asleep, curling by my lap not unlike a cat. My legendary diplomatic skills won yet another argument. I had a suspicion the whole thing had been a scheme to get my wine.

In front of a massive pillar of ice I created, Akua and Masego set up a scrying relay. By mid-afternoon, it had been completed.

I wished it hadn't.

Ratface was dead. Kendall was dead. My entire Council was dead, the Grey Pilgrim broke out of his captivity, refugees amassed at my border, and Warlock wanted Masego to return. There had been so much tragedy that when Juniper finished, her face stoically awaiting orders, I had sat there dumbly, barely able to grasp the magnitude of the mistakes I had (again) made. I had expected trouble to arise during my absence. I had not expected Malicia to drive a knife through every organ in Callow's body.

She would pay.

For the rest of the day, the Woe and I argued bitterly. Neither Vivienne nor Hakram wanted to leave, while Masego was determined to. Masego was a lost battle; I was his friend, but Warlock was his father, and out of everyone in the group, he was the only one who could enter Arcadia without my opening a gate. Vivienne and Hakram had surprised me with the ferocity of their refusals. Callow needed leadership, they both agreed, pointing at each other. Hakram was more capable, but putting an orc in charge was like throwing a sharper into a pit that was already on fire. Vivienne's leadership wouldn't be questioned, but she lacked the capacity to deal with everything at once. Eventually, I came up with a solution that managed to piss off all three of us: both would go.

Dinner that night was a quiet affair. Indrani threw out a few jokes, and even Akua tried to banter, but too much had been said that could not be unsaid. As I helped Indrani with the dishes, Vivienne tapped me on the shoulder.

She led me to an outcropping of rock away from the others. This far north, the sky was a clear canvas of stars. Sitting with her back to me, Vivienne hugged one knee, and I noticed she was barefoot, dipping one toe in the waters. We had all washed up earlier, and she shivered slightly in clothes that had not yet completely dried. Tempers had equally cooled. I put my arm around her, then remembered that since I was Winter, that probably made her colder. But she did not pull away. Her hair had grown, I noticed with surprise. Named bodies were not supposed to age. It suited her.

"If this is about you leaving, my mind is made up," I said. Gently, I added, "I don't want maybe the last time we see each other to end like this."

She shook her head.

"Akua."

Guilt filled me.

"It's not what you think – "

"Oh? Then what is it?"

"Alright, maybe it is what you think," I said grudgingly. "But I'm in control, I swear."

"She has you wrapped around her finger."

"She does not!"

I turned away from the accusation in those eyes. More than anyone else in the world, maybe even more than me, Vivienne had been altered by Second Liesse. It took no small tragedy to turn a hero into a villain.

"The way she fawns over you is disgusting, and even more disgusting is the way you let her. She's the Butcher of Liesse. A hundred thousand lives, Catherine. All it took for you to forget that was a pretty pair of legs."

It was a struggle not to flinch. Angrily, I said, "I haven't forgotten. I'm using her, and you were fine with that the last time I checked."

"She's not _suffering_."

"Gods Below, I'm not going to torture her just for the sake of it. We both agreed she was too useful to kill. So what if I use her for her body every now and then? I have needs, Vivienne. In case you haven't noticed, ruling Callow hasn't exactly been a stroll through Vale."

"If that's all you needed, then I could've – " She broke off, turning away. "I don't even want to imagine what you'll get up to when I'm not here."

"Nothing's going to happen that already hasn't."

It had been a stupid thing to say. For a second I thought she was going to hit me. Instead she closed her eyes and let out a long breath visible in the night air. Absurdly – desperately – I wanted her to say that it was okay, that I hadn't done anything wrong. I'd have better luck begging a mule to fly. In Dormer they stilled burned Praesi effigies. Callowan hatred aged like Summerholm wine, and Vivienne was more Callowan than most. Seeing Akua _happy_ must've been a slap in the face. Seeing me sleeping with her must've been betrayal of the worst kind. I'm not sure she wasn't wrong.

"I want you to promise me something," Vivienne said.

She looked frail in the moonlight. Despite all, I wanted to hug her. I didn't know what awaited me in the Everdark, and up above was no safer. She always had been the physically weakest of us. I wanted her with me. If I was the heart of the Woe, then she was the compass. For all her lack of confidence, she had that remarkable stubbornness of doing what she believed to be right even if the rest of the world – and I – told her no. What else could you ask for from a companion when heading into realms unknown? I squeezed her hand.

"Anything."

"Promise me you won't sleep with her until you return."

"Oh, come on, that might be months!"

She glared at me.

"I promise," I said.

She relaxed, resting in my arms, and this time I did hug her. It was pleasant to finally hug someone my size. Her hair smelled like the lake. Once I had been half in love with her. If she hadn't so clearly not been interested, I might've gone the full way. And she was right, as always. My relationship with Akua could never have lasted. If word got out I was bedding the Butcher of Liesse, I'd be lynched. I had floundered between desire and reason, unable to give up what I'd gotten used to, a bad habit I never should've picked up, all the while hating myself for it – and Vivienne, as always, gave me the push I needed.

She hugged me back, and together we returned to the campfire.

* * *

"Stay safe. Don't trust anyone in Praes," I said. "And try not to blow anything up, would you? I know how much you like that, but I'm the one who's going to clean it up."

"On the contrary, I dislike anything exploding," Masego said. "It is, unfortunately, an inevitable part of experimentation."

I clapped him on the back. "If I find any forbidden cursed tomes, I'll keep them safe for you." Ignoring his protests that it was almost impossible to curse a book, I turned to Hakram.

"Sorry I have to leave you with the rough work again. You know nobody else can do it."

"About yesterday – "

"Water under the bridge. You had every right to question me."

"Water under the bridge," he echoed as we clasped forearms in a legionary's salute. "Try not to kill too many drow, eh? We can't ally with them if they're dead."

I turned to Vivienne. But there was nothing more to be said between us.

"Remember our promise," she said, and that was that.

The morning sun shone bright and clear. Larat, already mounted, opened the gate. With a last farewell, they passed through Arcadia, three friends (and one treacherous lieutenant) I might never see again. The Story would not go that way, I told myself. After all, you don't just kill important villains off-screen. The Heavens would demand their money back. No, we would all reunite one last time, at some pivotal point upon which all nations hung in balance, facing down odds long even for villains, throwing quips all the way down to Hell.

"Well," I said to Indrani and Akua. "Let's get going, shall we? I have a very good reason for ending this journey as soon as possible."

The day's trek took us along the western border of the lake. It was long but easy travel, buoyed by partings on good terms. Nobody had traveled this land for at least a millennia. It seemed almost sacrilegious to leave our footsteps in the sand. The world was pristine. The scent of fresh moss and algae followed us. Fish leapt out of the waters, their scales reflecting colors I had never seen, and more than once we glimpsed the shadow of something huge swimming beyond the mist. Her explorer's heart electrified, Indrani kept up a constant stream of chatter, and the majesty of the land seemed to even touch Akua as she returned Indrani's flirtations.

Night found us at the edge of the forest that marked the boundary between the Everdark and the Kingdom of the Dead. In a grove of aspens, we set up camp. It was obvious the animals had never seen humans before. Deer peeked at us curiously behind bushes, and a family of foxes joined us by the fire. The howls of wolves punctuated the murmurs of the forest – snapped twigs, rustles, birdsong. Dinner was fish Indrani had caught earlier in the day, seasoned by her surprisingly proficient cooking skills. Which was fortunate, because I couldn't cook to save my life and I doubt Akua had ever done anything as menial as holding a pot. Afterwards, as the fire died to embers, we passed around Indrani's bottle of Atalantian wine.

"Journeying into a legendary forgotten city to save our kingdom," Indrani said. "I feel like we're a damn proper threesome of heroes."

"This may be the best thing I've ever tasted," I confessed.

Indrani looked inordinately pleased. "They only make a dozen bottles a year. You don't want to know what I had to do to get it."

"And you had the tact to save it until everyone else left. As queen, I approve."

"Try a sip, Sahelian. I didn't take you to be such a prig. You're the living picture of villainous decadence."

She certainly was. Akua wore a dress of shimmering blue scales that left a circle over her cleavage, the exact size and shape of her former wound. She splayed across my lap – no easy feat, since she was several inches taller than I was, but she weighed so little I barely felt her. Idly, I twirled a loose fold of her dress between my fingers (her dress technically was a part of her. Best not to think about it.) The bottle Indrani threw at her was already quarter-empty.

"Drinking was never my sin of choice," Akua said, holding the bottle up to the moon. "There are other ways to pass the time that don't alter your mental state. But as they say, when in Ater…"

Dipping her neck back, she took a long gulp, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. The gesture was so decidedly un-Sahelian, so _crass,_ that it aroused me. I forced it down, but she had noticed, the damn sly witch, I'd bet all the gold in Laure she did it on purpose. She arched up and kissed me. The wine was fresh on her tongue. Before it could last, I pushed her off.

"Now's not the time."

"I'm sure Archer doesn't mind. Do you?"

"Of course I mind," Indrani said. "I'm not in it!"

She leapt at me, and the three of us went down in a tangle of limbs. Someone was groping my breasts and someone was biting my ear and someone's fingers knitted through my hair, and the stars shone unbelievably bright.

I let Winter pour forth, cold steam hissing. Two shrieks.

"I don't know about you," I said, "but being in the middle of nowhere with the Dead King breathing down my neck isn't exactly a turn-on."

"Danger just makes it better," Indrani proclaimed, but she seemed to sense I wasn't in the mood. Nestling close, she grabbed the bottle from my hands. It was half-empty now. The connoisseur in me cringed that we had drank such a fine vintage like beer. The fire was ash, the night almost pure dark. Three things stood out: the amber of Indrani's skin, the glint of the bottle, Akua's golden eyes staring at us. The howls of wolves became closer, more insistent. I wasn't tired, but Indrani had begun nodding off. Her head slumped against my neck. Gently, I laid her down on the ground.

"Don't you get it on without me," she mumbled. "I've been looking forward to this. Three young girls in the woods at night…"

She trailed off into susurrations. I covered her with a blanket.

"Well, that was easier than expected," Akua said. "Shall we head to the beach? I imagine the waves would hide our…noises."

I so very badly wanted to go. Akua's body beneath mine in the sand, the wind so cold it had teeth, as we tumbled drenched in spray from the waves. Her dark skin would be beautiful glimmering wet in the moonlight. Perhaps afterwards we'd go skinny dipping in those waters no humans had swam in for centuries, it might be sacrilegious but what were villains if not blasphemous, and we would swim until we were just out of sight of the shore, just until it seemed like we were the only ones left in a lake that spanned the world, and I had never seen her with her hair down and wet but that, too, would be beautiful, and wasn't that just one more thing to check off my bucket list – sex in the water.

I shook my head.

She looked genuinely confused. "Why? If you're worried about Archer, I can lay down some wards – " She paused. "Dartwick. Of course." Something vicious passed through her, so briefly and so intensely I was sure I had been mistaken. She sat across from me. If she had tried to seduce me again, I would've made her tear out her tongue.

I poked at the ashes with a stick. Constantly I found new downsides of not needing to sleep. There was no amnesty from awkward silences.

"How long?" Akua said.

"Until we return."

"If she can't have you, nobody can."

"It's not like that. She hates you, as she has every right to. As I should."

"Is what you think?" Akua laughed scornfully. "That girl's madly in love with you and _seething_ she never took the opportunity when she had the chance. She's losing her Name, if you haven't noticed. You should kick her out of the Woe – "

Her hand reached into her mouth and came out with the bloody root of her tongue. Her expression never changed, staring at me defiantly. Her hatred I was familiar with, her contempt I was familiar with, but whatever this was, it was darker and baser than either. And more petty.

"Dartwick's more important to you than I am."

I narrowed my eyes. "You seem to have forgotten the nature of our relationship. You're nothing but a warm body."

"As you say, my love."

"Take watch. If you ever bring this up again, Diabolist, I'll ask Masego about how to make you lose body parts permanently."

Deliberately, I turned away from her, fishing out that damned book on Reitz from my pack. I felt her presence grow fainter; she had walked away. Opening the book, I tried to forget the fantasy of water and sand. Hopefully that would be the end of it.

* * *

It was not, of course, the end of anything. In constant darkness, we forged deeper into the Everdark, and the oppressiveness of the underground was only matched by the oppressiveness of constantly warring against the drow. Weariness settled over us. We had not seen sky in weeks. So it was no wonder, then, that on the eve of our battle in Great Strycht, when Indrani leaned into me, the question in her eyes, I did not lean away. Because though I had promised Vivienne I would not sleep with Akua, I had promised nothing with Indrani. The ichor of the drow she'd butchered earlier in the day still clung to her. She had a desperation not present in anyone I'd been with, as if she was scared I would abandon her. Neither of us had stuck with anyone for more than a few months. There had been nothing deeper behind the act. Nor had we expected it.

So why did I feel as if I cheated on someone?

I shrugged on my clothes. I ran my thumb over the carving of Sve Noc Indrani had given me last night – bribed me with, in retrospect. The two-faced goddess, both smiling and weeping. She had once again visited me in a vision, and once again left me more confused than ever. The first time, she had welcomed me, then promptly sicced all her drow on us. Which one was the real Sve Noc? Deep in my gut I felt the stirrings of a pivot, like a great grindstone buried in the earth starting to turn. This war would end in Great Strycht.

"You look _so_ handsome when you're brooding."

Indrani fell against my back. She was still naked, and expressed disappointment that I wasn't.

"We have a battle today," I reminded her, though I made no effort to push her off.

"I was expecting Akua to show up last night. You're pretty good, I'll admit, but imagine the three of us– "

I twisted so she fell forward, and I pushed her down. Her laughter rang through the cavern. _We children of dew and lightning, transient and terrible in our passing_. She was ephemerality made shape: born to parents who had stolen across the Tyrian Sea, then stolen back as a slave, and stolen a third time by the Lady of the Lake. From birth she had been sent drifting on the wind. One day she would leave me. The thought pained me more than I would ever admit, so I bit down on her lip, and she yelped.

"That's for the time you stabbed my hand."

" _Callowans._ "

She put on her leathers, and we ate a sorry breakfast of bread and herbs. Indrani's culinary skills didn't extend to the strange plants of the Everdark. We had woken even before the drow, who slept silently, visible less for their forms than the shadows they cast. I told Indrani about Sve Noc, and somehow that got us started on the story of the three knights and the twin-headed ogre. There was wisdom in stories, or so I had been told, though I couldn't imagine what wisdom lay behind Elizabeth Alban straight-up murdering the ogre. Indrani laughed at that. She always did find wanton brutality humorous.

"About Akua," she began.

"Not happening, no matter how many times you beg."

"Not that, Cat. Though you can't blame a girl for trying. Whatever's going on between you two, I recommend you sort it out _before_ we enter the massive underground death battle."

"It's complicated."

"Only 'cuz you make it so. If it was me, I'd never let her leave my bed – "

I threw the pot at her, and she had the grace to let it hit her face. I think I loved her in that moment, even if I would never do so that way again.

The drow roused shortly after we did. Nobody would ever mistake those sloppy, bleary-eyed risers for legionaries. I sat facing the walls of Great Strycht, using a dagger to outline our final battle plans in the dirt. It was messy, and I wasn't referring to the dirt. The problem was that there were too many unknowns. Even the size of the cavern held estimates ranging from a few miles to several dozen. Then there was murkiness about the true number of enemies we faced, including our supposed allies of Jindrich Sigil whom I could at least rely on to backstab us at the first opportunity. Add Mighty Rumena and the Longstride Cabal and, of course, Sve Noc into the mix, and you had the makings of a battle not even the lovechild of Juniper and Grem One-Eye could calculate.

"Did you enjoy yourself last night?"

I drew a forward arrow to mark our assault. If there was one clear lining in this mess, it was that everyone else would suffer the same chaos I did. The city was a powder keg with the fuse already lit. Our attack would speed up the spark.

"You were quite loud, I'm afraid. Ivah asked me if you were engaging in some sort of pre-battle ritual."

The problem came in what to do next. The best outcome was to swoop in after the others bled each other, but I had a feeling drow who'd been warring for centuries wouldn't fall for that. No, in order to get them to commit, I had to commit myself.

"Was Indrani as skilled as she claims to be? She's promised me I could have an unforgettable night."

"Don't you have something important to do?" I said testily. "Like getting my army ready for war?"

Akua stooped over me, eyeing my scratchings.

"We only await your word."

Her dress had been conservative of late. Today she wore what could almost pass for armor, as much as mage robes could be called armor anyway. For all our stiffness, Akua remained as useful as ever. She was the one who came up with the auction system, she was the one who came up with the plan to strand the Mighty of Great Lotow in Arcadia, and without our long nights together picking through Crepuscular texts, I'd never have learned the damn language. She had not tried to seduce me again; I got the impression she expected me to break the promise of my own accord. In a way, these months in the Everdark had been what I always imagined our relationship to be like when I ensnared her soul in my Mantle. User and used: not friends but not quite enemies and certainly not lovers, with a distance between us all the continents of Arcadia couldn't close.

"Have you finished that thing we talked about?"

"I finished it last night. I'm glad you had an outlet, my love. I've been quite worried about this abstinence of yours. I know how…insatiable your tastes can be."

"That's none of your business," I said coldly. "Tools need not worry about the hand that wields them."

She bowed.

That insufferable half-smile never slipped her face. For all her teasing, she had become distant, and I told myself that was exactly what I had wanted. Every day she drifted further from the Akua I'd come to know, and that, too, I told myself, was what I had wanted. Or maybe there had been no Akua-I'd-come-to-know, just another face she created to entrap me and discarded when it was no longer useful. The dagger snapped in my fingers. I couldn't even tell if she was truly angry that I had slept with Indrani or merely just being a prick. I suspected it was the latter. Whatever grudge she held against Vivienne, it wasn't present here.

But this was not the time for complex things, for ugly things, for things too subtle to name. Great Strycht loomed before us. Beyond: a goddess who had planned her apotheosis for millennia.

"Gather the Mighty. We strike in half a bell."


	5. Return

Chapter Five: Return

The exodus of the drow formed a caravan half a league long. For weeks, called by their dark goddess, drow from all across the Everdark streamed into Great Strycht. The sea of bodies had swelled like oceans in those enormous caverns. It took almost as long to get them into a semblance of order. I would never shape them into a Legion, even with Sve Noc at my side. But they didn't need to be a Legion. I watched the drow march across Arcadia, fifty thousand strong, and not a blade of grass stirred at their passing.

They would be the sharpest knives I ever wielded.

"The Surface shall tremble," Komena cawed, somehow proudly.

"Cat, the crow's talking again," Indrani said.

We had stopped for the night – or rather, day. The drow splayed into a loose camp more fitting for a band of gypsies than an army. A thousand fires sent smoke into the multi-colored sky of Arcadia. I puffed contently at my pipe. I had forgotten how good it felt to be _human_ again. All my senses were magnified, the wakeleaf a hundred times more succulent. Even the wind biting into me was invigorating; the toastiness of the fire was paradise. I had taken my shoes off, letting my toes rest on the grass. My only regret was that drow _senna_ was all we had. We had finished the last of the wine we brought from the surface – a Stygian blend Indrani had saved for the occasion – on the night I allied with Sve Noc. What I'd do for a bottle of that divine Atalantian right now.

"I have spoken multiple times, yet your companion is continuously surprised," Komena said. "I fear she is dull-witted."

Gods, it was like having two Masegos on my shoulder. The drow were a painfully literal race, I had learned. Their goddess was no better.

"We should be at the exit tomorrow," I said. "If we're lucky, we'll pop up somewhere in Callow, and from there it'll be an easy march to Laure."

"When have we ever been lucky?" Indrani said.

"If we're unlucky, we get to chop up some Procerans on our way back. Really, it's a win both ways."

"The drow could do with a battle," Akua said. "I fear their ambush tactics are ill-suited for traditional warfare."

I set my staff across my knees. _Am I not in your service? Bindings are formality, not essence._ I hadn't been able to look Akua in the eye since my victory over Sve Noc – alright, it was more like a draw. Alright, it was probably closer to a loss than a draw, since they could kill me as easily as blowing out a candle, but I was alive with an empire at my fingertips, so who really won in the end? _Would you snuff me out for observing your own principles?_ Echoing in my skull was the bizarre barrister's defense Akua had given. What kind of slave would risk certain doom to save her slaver? _I will do nothing but what you have demanded of me._ Across the campfire, Akua's eyes never left my face. Her eagerness was difficult to ignore. Soon we would return to Vivienne. Akua had been patient as long as I had – longer, in fact, since I had at least that night with Indrani. Akua still thought that once we returned, we would go back to the way we used to be.

_In my hour of judgement, I may be unmade and cast into the deepest burning pits. But until then? Oh, what a glorious ride it will be._

"We need to hit the ground running," I said. "We've already been out of the loop for months. Our first priority is to get a grasp on the Crusade's situation."

"It's best to prepare for the worst, my love. Callow may already be gone."

Of course I had considered the possibility. The fact we hadn't been able to scry anyone had been worrying. With its central leadership assassinated, Callow was ripe for conquest, and Hakram and Vivienne may not have made it back in time. My truce agreement with Rozala Malanza was worth less than a goblin's promise now that I was Arch-heretic of the East. That damn Pilgrim could've marched his army back across the Whitecaps the minute those priests made their declaration.

"I don't think so," I said at last. "I have faith in Juniper and Duchess Kegan. Plus, when we left, Black was still in Procer burning every city he came across. The Crusade won't get far with their backyard on fire. And that's even before the Dead King begins hisinvasion. That's the one good thing to come out of the Keter debacle. The Dead King will benefit us at the start. Eventually, of course, we'll need to fight him too."

"It's no fun fighting undead," Indrani complained. "They don't _feel_ anything. You might as well as be fighting training dummies."

"Under the right circumstances, we won't need to. Akua, what do you know about the contract?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Beyond what the Dead King told us? Absolutely nothing, and that's assuming he wasn't lying."

"I'm talking about the contract itself. Come on, Diabolist, you could write a book on this. If one of the contract-holders die, what happens?"

"If it were a normal contract between, let's say, a summoner and an imp, then absolutely nothing. You'd have to write a clause specifically into the contract regarding death." Understanding flickered across her face. "You think that Malicia prepared for the eventuality."

"I don't see how this helps us," Indrani said. "Then she would've allowed the Dead King full reign in the event she died. That way nobody would dare kill her."

"Not necessarily," Akua said. "Malicia knows that the biggest threat is not the Crusade or Callow – it's the Dead King. He's the one she needs protection from…Oh, my love, you come up with the most wicked schemes."

So it was possible, then, and judging by Akua's smile, not only possible but probable. Half-lidded, her eyes bored into me, and she bit one crimson lip. Tightly, she crossed her legs.

I sucked in a breath of wakeleaf. The Story was taking shape. Still, there was no point in dwelling on it now. Planning too far ahead was as silly as not planning at all. We would return to Callow. We would get the report from Hakram and Vivienne. I would need to talk with Black. Then, and only then, could I think about ending the war.

* * *

Sitting alone behind the war table, Vivienne looked the frailest she'd ever looked.

No trace of her Name remained. She had traded worn leathers for a noblewoman's dress, short hair for crown braids, a dagger for a ring. She looked undeniably older, as if her body was determined to catch up on the progress her Name had denied it. It occurred to me that I probably made the same impression on her: no longer Winter but human, limping like a cripple, and along the way I had thrown away my sword and picked up a staff. The crows on my shoulder squawked loudly. Ah, yes, them too.

"I suppose I should thank you for dismissing the others first," Vivienne said.

She did an admirable job of hiding her fear, but I knew her too well to not notice the formality in her voice, the way she stared at a point behind me instead of my eyes. It made me sad, that she would be scared of me. I remembered her laughing by the lake, and I remembered hugging her in the moonlight as she shivered in my arms. I had missed her. I had not expected our reunion to turn into a hearing. Friends were yet another thing queenship stole from you.

"Trust me, I am _not_ done with Juniper for this sorry mess she dragged my army in to. But she's the Marshall. You're Lady-Regent. _Were._ I sent you back to fix problems, not make more of them."

"I saw the opportunity to extricate Marshal Grem's forces as well as stall further conflict. The unforeseen event that blocked our exit through Arcadia – "

"Ah, yes, it would've worked, if it weren't for those meddling faeries," I said sarcastically. "Your job was not to win the war. Your job was to hold Callow until I returned. I never thought that you, of all people, would let power get to your head."

"That's not why – "

"And what the hell was that with the mages? You think that arresting me in full sight of the troops was the best way to confirm my identity? If my imposter were smart – and she would be, to be my imposter – then she could've accused you of treason and began a civil war in the middle of our camp."

"In retrospect, the decision was premature," Vivienne said stiffly.

"You almost destroyed everything we've worked to build."

She said nothing.

"You almost destroyed Callow."

I had never seen her cry and I never would. Even now, as I twisted the knife as far as it would go, she merely clenched the folds of her dress and stared very hard at a spot on the table.

"For what it's worth," she said without emotion, "I enjoyed being a part of the Woe."

I took a seat across from her. A gust had blown into the war tent. The cold made my leg act up again. Vivienne's expression was blank even as her hands shook. From a noble to a hero, a hero to a villain, a villain to a nobody. What an uncaring hand the Heavens dealt to those who fell from their favor. She would vanish among the thousands of parishes of Callow, living out the rest of her life in anonymity. A fitting end for the girl once known as Thief. The crows eyed her with interest. They were curious why I didn't just kill her.

"I'm not kicking you out of anything," I said.

Her head shot up.

"You put your faith in me when there was nothing in it for you. A hero allying with a villain – even now I'm amazed I was stupid enough to think it would work. It did, but not because of me. Even without a Name, even if you were lame and crippled, even if you continued making mistakes over and over again, you will always be a part of the Woe. Don't think you can get rid of me that easily."

There was so much love, so much gratitude in her eyes.

"But you lost my trust," I continued quietly. "You'll have to earn it back all over again. For now, you will remain in control of the Jacks. Nothing else. You will not even stand with us during council. If you want more responsibility in Callow's future, you'll have to earn it."

"I will," she said fiercely.

 _Wonderfully done_ , Andronike crooned in my ear.

Vivienne's eyes glimmered wetly in the candlelight. _The girl's madly in love with you,_ Akua had told me. I half-believed her now. But whatever may have been will never come to be. Things would never be the same between Vivienne and me. Once you've been shattered, you can't pretend not to notice the cracks that now ran through you. My heart wrenched as if part of me had been ripped out. No matter how much Vivienne may have loved me, no matter how much she may come to love me in the future, she would always remember this moment and come anew to the realization that before I was her friend, before I was her comrade, before I was a possible lover – I was her queen.

Softly, I said, "I'm glad to see you again."

There was that old smile.

"I noticed you've picked up some pets."

The crows cawed indignantly.

We talked long into the night. I had missed her more than I realized. As for her, after I had granted her grace, she probably would've listened to me read aloud Laure's tax records. I told her about the drow, the dwarves, my campaign through the Everdark that ended with Sve Noc. She frowned. It was admittedly difficult to believe, that the crows on my shoulder were among the most powerful beings in Creation. Komena pecked my ear for that. Vivienne's face took on a wistful expression, and I knew she was imagining how differently things would've gone if she had come with me. My retelling was more romantic than it actually was. Anything would be, if you stripped out the parts about marching day and night and getting on each other's nerves and choking down strange, white-colored mushrooms.

"And now I've returned, and I've kept my promise."

Vivienne's expression turned guarded.

"You can't trust her," she said.

"I know."

"Do you see now?"

"I think," I said slowly, "that you were right about Akua's hold on me."

"You're not going to do anything about it," she said flatly.

"I – " Missed her, as much as it was possible to miss someone standing right next to you, connected to you, talking to you, whom you could see but not touch, whom you had driven away yourself. It would've been easy to lay all the blame at Vivienne's feet. I had, at the start. But I had agreed with her, because it had been my last chance to hate Akua as I once had. Hate was a hard drug to give up. Vivienne believed Akua to be incapable of redemption. What did that make me?

If I expected recriminations, I received none. Instead, Vivienne nodded tiredly – sunlight peeked into the tent, I realized. Had we really talked the entire night? – and rested her chin in her palms.

"I knew, even back then, what was going on between you two. It was my last-ditch effort to keep you for myself."

"Is that a confession?" I joked.

"It is."

Vivienne Dartwick stood up, sun shining through her braids, and even though she had lost her Name, even though she had been at my mercy a few hours ago, even though she was just as damn short as I was, she looked more like a queen than I ever did.

"I know that I've lost my chance with you, Catherine. I'll probably kick myself for that even in my grave. But we'll only ever have mistresses, won't we? We're already wed to Callow. That's why I'll never forget the Folly. I don't trust Akua, but I trust you. And even though Akua deserves to suffer, you certainly don't. So be happy. Be free. I'll bear the burden of hatred for the both of us. And one day, of this I swear, I'll collect her due."

* * *

We marched through Arcadia that was more akin to a Hell. No grass or flower remained of that once-beautiful land, only a wasteland of dirt so dry it was like marching on stone. Choking black dust covered our advance. Our ears rang with the constant roar of thunder. Lightning fell a legionary with every heartbeat. Great cracks snaked through the earth, lava pouring forth in geysers, and more than once we had to alter our course. Costly delays. A great eye seemed to be watching us, judging us, occasionally flicking a finger – tornado, earthquake, devils – to destroy an entire company at its whim. A shifting tapestry of clouds replaced the sky, and I thought I glimpsed some great structure flying behind those shadows.

We left behind the dead. If there was any upside to our march of the damned, it was that the journey was relatively short. Normally it would take two weeks to cross the mountains that separated southern Procer from Callow. My gate shortened it to four days. I marched my soldiers as hard as they would go, until the frailer among them dropped to their feet. None looked behind. On the final day, as a volcano erupted and showered the sky with meteors, we threw away our food, our weapons, our armor, anything that would slow us down, and made a final sprint for the gate.

When we poured out into the verdant grasslands south of Laure, my soldiers dropped to their knees and wept.

"It's ugly," Hakram said when we finally reached Laure itself a day later.

"Report."

"Five thousand dead in the Legions, ten thousand dead in the Army of Callow. I'm not sure about the drow – "

"Eight thousand. They got off relatively light."

"A quarter of our army, then, is gone."

"A battle would've been less bloody," Juniper said. "By far."

There was a hint of reproach in her voice. It had been a gamble to take our forces through Arcadia instead of fighting Rozala Malanza. Juniper seemed to think I avoided battle because I didn't trust her after her blunder.

I drummed my fingers along the table. Gods, I had missed Laure, even this stuffy solar where I used to spend hours agonizing over paperwork. My desk was large and comfortable and within arm's reach of the liquor cabinet, and next to it were two smaller desks where Anne Kendall and Ratface had used to scribble. I poured out another cup for them. To vengeance. Revenge would come soon and taste twice as sweet.

"A battle was never an option. Leak it to the Procerans that we lost a quarter – no, a third – of our army. Imply most of it was Grem's. Maybe that'll tide them over."

The South would revolt, Rozala had told me with the certainty only an oracle could provide. Black's Legions had burned too much of Procer to be allowed to retreat. She had given me the option of a defeat with relatively light casualties that would allow us to escape, but I couldn't allow the myth of the invincible Black Queen to be broken. The march through Arcadia, brutal as it was, had at least not been a defeat at the hands of an enemy. After all, you can't fault a commander for losing to storms.

"We're also undersupplied," Hakram said. "Most of our forces abandoned everything they carried. It'll take us at least half a year to forge enough steel."

"Get it from the dwarves. They owe me a favor. I want my troops battle-ready by the end of the month."

Juniper made a choking noise.

"You can't be – " she caught herself and stood straight up straight. "Your Majesty, our troops are exhausted. The Army of Callow has spent the last several months skirmishing in Proceran territory, and the Legions had spent the better part of the year going hand-to-mouth through Procer. Add to that our recent march…I thought the reason for our hasty retreat was so we could collect our strength again."

"I know you're worried about the Dead King," Hakram said, "but if we attack him now, we're only going to swell his ranks."

"Your objections are noted. You are dismissed. Remember, the end of the month."

With crisp salutes, they left the solar.

When their footsteps faded, I sank into my chair, allowing all my exhaustion to show. My leg ached brutally after days of hard riding. The pain was also the only thing keeping me awake. There was one last thing I needed to do before I could sleep.

Akua was already waiting for me in the underground complex that had once been a prison. "You look half-dead," she said, and I allowed myself to sink into her embrace. Her body had grown more solid after Night devoured Winter. The Praesi perfume she had magicked smelled like lavender and bitter almonds. Brusquely, I pushed her away and entered the room with a single chair at its center.

Once, I could've covered every surface with ice as easily as snapping a finger. Now, ice crawled slowly over the walls, so translucent I could still see the stone behind them. Sweat beaded on my brow. Those damn crows cackled. At last they took pity on me, and with a surge of strength the ice solidified into a glittering hall of mirrors.

It took several attempts before Cordelia Hasenbach answered.

I counted myself lucky she even showed up at all. I had, after all, been gone for almost a year. It was past midnight, and if she had been sleeping, she never would've noticed the amulet buzzing. But I had a feeling she slept late, as I did. The scrying block had shut off almost all communication this side of Calernia. I had a sneaking suspicion who was behind it. But the block could not obstruct my line to Hasenbach, the strand of my domain woven into the amulet in her possession.

"She's hurried," Akua said.

Indeed she was. For a woman who didn't count beauty among her talents, Hasenbach had always taken the time to assuage that flaw – not out of vanity, but because beauty was one more tool. Tonight, she had already washed off her makeup, and her hair fell into a jumble at her shoulders. She wore a thick blue dress behind which peeked the straps of her nightgown. I'm pretty sure I caught her just as she went to bed. Even the miracles that covered her glowed with only a dull light.

But there was no tiredness on that warrior's face, and with effort I forced down my own.

"Your Most Serene Highness," I said.

"Your Grace."

"The first strike is yours," Akua said. "You hold completely the advantage of surprise. Behind it you have the weight of the arguably strongest army on Calernia. She knows nothing of what you've been up to. Choose your words carefully, and this battle will be won with the first skirmish."

"Damn, it's good to be back," I said. "Did you miss me as much as I missed you?"

Akua sighed.

"I had heard rumors you'd returned," Hasenbach said, "though with the situation as it is, I had not thought them reliable."

"You know me, always showing up in the nick of time."

The silence dragged, and I watched with pleasure as the annoyance worked its way through that homely face. At last, she said, a touch impatiently, "I assume the reason you called me is related to why you were gone for the better part of a year."

"Now, my dear Cordelia, I would love to say I missed the sound of your voice – " Akua covered her face with her hand. " – but let's be honest here, I would die happy if I never heard it again. You sent your hound Malanza to my army's throat."

"From the fact we're having this conversation, I take it she was not successful."

"You might have a little rebellion problem on your hands. Your mages'll get around to telling you, once they leave the scrying block. Aren't I nice for giving you advanced warning?"

"Notice the way she's narrowing her eyes?" Akua said. "She does that when receiving bad news. She trusts your word, for now."

It was impossible, I thought, to not hate the messenger, especially when the messenger gave bad news with such relish. And was, in fact, responsible for said news in the first place. Because I had refused Malanza's offer of easy escape, Hasenbach probably thought my goal was for Procer to rebel. The opposite was true. Right now, Procer was my shield against the Dead King. I took out my pipe, then grimaced when I realized I was out of wakeleaf. That would be first on my priorities list, tomorrow.

"What do you want?" Hasenbach said, throwing away all pretense of etiquette. It was good to know I hadn't lost my touch for getting under her skin. Legendary as my diplomatic skills might be, I was not going to fight Hasenbach on her own grounds.

"The same thing I've always wanted. For you to leave Callow alone."

"We have not come to agreement the last half-dozen times we conversed. Whatever deals you've made in the past year, you will not sway me."

"Ah, but you haven't even heard my new incredibly enticing terms."

"And what's that?"

"By the month's end, Callow will march on Praes."

Next to me, Akua began softly laughing.

For all of Hasenbach's ineptitude, I admired how quickly the mask resettled over her face. There was a reason they called her Your Most _Serene_ Highness. For several seconds, she was utterly still. You could practically see the gears turning behind those eyes.

"Why?"  
"Because I have it on good authority that if Malicia dies, the Dead King will be forced back into his Hell."

"Whose authority?"

"Someone very knowledgeable about contracts. Suffice it to say, the Dead King can only enter Calernia if he's invited. That was the basis of Malicia's contract with him. We believe she added a clause to protect herself from him."

"If she were to die, he would have to return," Hasenbach said, realization sinking in. "You're sure about this?"

"No," I admitted. "But I know Malicia. She always leaves herself an out. She _needs_ to add that clause, because if she didn't, she would be at the Dead King's mercy. This way, the Dead King would even be forced to protect her. The chance is too good not to take. A war against the Dead King would last years, maybe decades. Tens of thousands will die. Hundreds of thousands."

"You would go to war with Praes on a gamble?" Hasenbach's tone left no doubt to what she thought of my intelligence. "Praes has never been conquered since Eleanor Fairfax lead the first Crusade. The walls of its cities are fifty feet high. Even to enter the Wasteland is to risk starvation. They've shackled enough devils and demons to turn the Empire into its own circle of Hell."

"And yet you still saw fit to give it another go."

"Evil cannot be allowed to triumph," Hasenbach said passionately. A tinge of pride entered her voice. "I declared a Crusade only when I thought our forces capable of breeching Praes. All of Procer, united, along with the spears of Levant and the navy of Ashur. Good has not seen an alliance of this magnitude for centuries. Even then, our war will be long and bloody. You think that you can defeat Praes alone? Because if you think I will throw my forces into the jaws of the snake with yours, you are grossly mistaken."

The grin sliced my face.

"I have a weapon against Praes unmatched by you and your Grand Alliance and all the Angels in Heaven."

"Which would be…"

"Oh, no you don't," I said, wagging my finger. "You can't expect a girl to give up her secrets so easily."

"I cannot allow a villain to rule Praes, just as I cannot allow a villain to rule Callow. The same villain ruling both…you present a greater threat to the world than Malicia. _If_ you succeed."

I laughed. "You want me to abdicate. You need to come up with some new tricks, Cordelia. Let me be clear: I'm killing Malicia, with or without you. Your agreement simply dictates whether afterwards there's peace between us or whether I turn my sword against you after you've been ravaged by the Dead King. For what it's worth, I'll tell you that I have no interest in ruling Praes. That entire Empire can be swallowed by the desert for all I care."

She was shaken. She didn't believe me, but she feared me. To return after a year, boasting of a weapon that could destroy Praes – what horrors had I unearthed? The drow were not so terrible. It would take a few more days for word of my new army to reach her.

The drow were not what I had in mind.

Callow conquering Praes? If I succeeded, I would drive back the Dead King. If I failed, I would cripple Callow as much as Praes. Either outcome resulted in the elimination of her enemies. It was too good to be true. It was too outrageous to be a lie. I studied her face lit up by the shine of her miracles. Cordelia Hasenbach wasn't someone you could bully. She was so full of _good_ that just being in front of her made me feel like I'd stolen a tart from the kitchens. Yet unlike the Grey Pilgrim, she was willing to bend rather than break. Also unlike that old goat, Hasenbach would keep her word. We were both women of pragmatism. If it meant getting what she wanted, she would broker a deal with a villain. The biggest obstacle was her pride. It was no exaggeration to say she had spent her entire life building the Crusade. For someone to come along and do what she still couldn't – that stung.

"What do you want from me?" she said at last.

"One. The Grand Alliance will not attack Callow for the duration of my campaign."

"How long will that be?"

"I'm not trying to pull one over you," I said wearily. "We can work out the exact wording later. I need assurance you're not going to stab me in the back the moment my army heads into the Wasteland."

Not that there had been any real danger of that. With the Dead King at the borders, Procer couldn't even defend itself, much less make a move on Callow.

"Agreed."

"Two. Upon Malicia's death, you will un-name me Arch-heretic of the East."

"You overestimate my sway over the priests."

"Then you're even more incompetent than I thought." Her jaw clenched. That got a rise out of her. "I'm betraying Praes to drive out the single greatest Evil on Calernia. The redemption story practically writes itself."

"I give you my word I will try to convince the priests. I can make no promises."

"Three. This one's a bit more complicated. If the Dead King leaves after Malicia's death, then we can skip straight to number four. But if he doesn't, you will welcome Callow's alliance to help drive him back."

"Agreed."

"Four. I will, at some point in the future, call for a peace summit among every nation in Calernia. You will endorse it with your full political capital."

"I cannot agree to such a nebulous demand."

"Gods Above, it's a _peace summit_. I'm not going to open a Hell Gate in the middle of it, if that's what you're scared of."

She brooded.

"Agreed."

"Then we're done here," I said, rising out of my chair. "We'll meet tomorrow night to outline the details. Make no mistake, Hasenbach. This entire mess rests squarely on those broad shoulders of yours. You can't expect to corner Praes without it biting back. I'm doing all I can to clean up your mess. The least you can do is keep a leash on that rabid civil war you call a country."

She opened her mouth, furious, but the ice had already begun to melt. Her form winked out, and the room darkened once more.

"Needless antagonism," Akua sighed.

"Come," I told her.

The winter air was biting. I dismissed the crows – they had no interest in this next part anyways – and together, Akua and I walked down the abandoned path that led from the prison to the palace. Snow fell thickly. Our pace was slow on account of my leg, and I ignored Akua's offered hand. Callowan winters were something of a legend; more than one Praesi invasion had failed when their desert soldiers found themselves freezing knee-deep in snow. When I was younger, winter had meant less food and freezing nights. When I took charge of the Fifteenth, winter meant supply logistics, impaired travel, disease. But there was undeniable beauty to winter – just winter, not Winter. A thin layer of white covered the palace, its lights glowing warmly.

In my bedroom, a fire had already been lit. Kicking off my boots, I sat down at the edge of the bed.

The only noise was the crackle of the fire. Patiently, Akua stood in front of me, neither offering nor demanding, a triumphant smile on her face. She was confident in what was about to come. She didn't know, not really. It had been a week since we returned. This conversation was long overdue. I'd never found the time, or so I told myself. Silently, I grieved – what I've done, what I've been forced to do, what I had to do yet. Once I gave her the choice, it could never be taken back. Akua wore a dress the same color as her eyes, and both shifted with the dancing of the flame. The Heiress. Fate had forced us together like throwing two dice into a cup. The Diabolist. I had bound her, and in turn she had bound me even tighter. The Butcher of Liesse. I no longer hated her, and that acceptance was like becoming human all over again.

"You came back for me," I said softly.

It took her several seconds to realize what I was talking about.

"Of course. Did I not swear to serve you?"

"You could've left me to die at the hands of Sve Noc. You could've been free. I expected you to. You were always my last contingency. I never planned for you to take part. Funny how the worst-case scenario always comes to pass whenever I'm involved."

"I could never let harm come to you, my love."

"I treated you like a tool."

"You think that's an insult." She laughed, lively and musical with a waver of uncertainty. Things were not going as she expected. "It's no insult to be used. Letting a weapon rot is the worst you can do to it."

"I tortured you, I ignored you, I made you slave to my commands, and still you returned."

"Such is the right of the victor. And you were kind, my love, much kinder than you had to be."

"It can't go on like this."

Something like fear coursed through her. She took a half-step forward. I shook my head.

"Leave, Akua. Head to the Free Cities, or Levant, or Ashur, or even across the Tyrian Sea for all I care. Swear you'll never set foot in Callow again, that you'll never conspire to bring harm to its people or its allies, and I will absolve the contract that binds you to me."

"Dartwick will have your head." Her tone was light, but her voice trembled. The entirety of her soul trembled. "My love, it's not mercy you're offering me."

"Your only other choice is eternal servitude. If you stay by my side, I will never relinquish the contract that binds us, no matter how many times we sleep together. Frankly, it's abhorrent to me to keep you enslaved like this. But I know too much of what you're capable of. Stay, and for as long as either of us live, your soul will belong to me."

"It is no choice at all."

"It is, we are told, the only choice that ever really matters."

Her answer took the form of a kiss.

I let it last as long as it could and still it seemed short. The last time we kissed had been back by that lake near Keter. She tasted like honey and tangerines. I had expected her response, yet I had still found myself irrationally terrified of that possibility – that she would say _yes_ , that she would leave me, that she would mock me for ever thinking she had been anything but pretending. Maybe I was terrified because I thought it was what I deserved.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Akua said as she slowly unbuttoned my clothes. She was gentle, taking care not to hurt my leg. "Do you not hold my heart? You can do with it whatever you wish. But whether you stab it or drain it or drown your enemies in its blood, know that the worst you can do is throw it away."

"I'll never forget what you've done."

"As you shouldn't," she said proudly.

"I can't forgive you," I said quietly. "But I think I can love you."

She kissed me again, and she laid me onto the bed, and she pressed her fingers into my palms. We started off clumsily, because it really had been too long, and I was still unused to my new (or old?) body. There was a new shyness between us that hadn't been present even on our first night together. The hesitancy fell away with the clothes. Something connected us even deeper than Fate had intended when it uncaringly tossed us into the game. Strangely, I wanted to weep. She was all I remembered and more. As our bodies entwined, I marveled I had been able to abstain from her. I knew I would never do so again. Why would I? There was no longer anything to be ashamed of. There never had been.


	6. Domino

Chapter Six: Domino

I woke to the noon bell.

For an eternity I continued to lie in bed, not quite willing to get up, but too well-rested to sleep. The blankets were damnably comfortable. Even an orphan girl could get used to villainous decadence. I yawned, stretching. My fingers brushed something soft.

"Good morning, my love."

Akua reclined next to me, quill softly scratching over papers.

She was also entirely naked, the sun making mahogany of her skin.

She was a fine sight to wake up to. She did not, of course, need to sleep as I now did. Whenever I woke up in the middle of the night, I saw her in the corner reading or attending to state affairs, the light turned low so as to not disturb me. In the mornings, she liked to return to my side. Often I woke to find my head in her lap, or her fingers through my hair, or those golden eyes peering into my bleary own. Lascivious? Undoubtedly, and I kissed her all the same. Leaning against her, I softly sighed.

"There's work to be done," Akua reproached. "If you don't authorize those dwarven transactions, Hakram's going to burst through the door again."

"You were more fun before you became my secretary, _Advisor Kivule,_ " I said, rolling off her. I washed and dressed and ate the breakfast – though lunch would be more accurate – that had already been laid out for me: eggs and sausages with two slices of sweetbread, a bowl of carrot soup, and a still-warm slice of strawberry cake. Sometimes, I loved being queen. No wine, unfortunately. Akua, ever temperate, disapproved. The day was bright and cloudless, and beyond the walls of my room, the rest of the palace had woken up hours ago. Once, I would've been appalled at getting up so late, but being human again came with its downsides. My body wasn't as limber as I remembered it. That, coupled with my nightly exertions with Akua, meant I rarely woke before noon.

Neither was there any reason to. Akua handed me the morning's documents: Hakram's bill of dwarven sales, a request for more horses from Talbot, an update from Vivienne about the situation in Procer. Two weeks had passed since our return through Arcadia. Though the rest of the continent raged, Callow was the most peaceful it'd been in years. With Procer and the Dead King warring in the north, and Praes too weakened by the Crusade to do much of anything, we were finally left alone. The winter was mild by Callowan standards; we were in no danger of food shortages. The soldiers were enjoying a well-deserved break. The farmers plowed on, as they always did, just grateful that no battles bloodied their fields. As for the queen that led them, I hastily scribbled my signatures over the documents before heading to the balcony, taking out my pipe as I watched Laure thrum to life.

"It will not last," Akua said, reading my thoughts. "Not unless we make it."

"See that over there?" I pointed with my pipe. "That's where I grew up."

"It's…charmingly rustic."

"They have a plaque on the door: Childhood home of Catherine Foundling. They wanted a statue, too, but I shot that down."

"You could do with more egotism. Great rulers deserve great tributes."

"I miss them a bit," I said fondly. "Of course, I hated everyone when I actually lived there, but they weren't so bad. The girls mostly left me alone. It wasn't their fault. I was kind of a prick, now that I look back on it. The matrons were kind, too, even if they slapped your hand if you were so much as a minute past curfew. What I miss most is the – "

" – innocence," Akua finished.

" – simplicity. I suppose innocence is another word for it. Back then, the only thing I worried about was winning my fights in the Pit and saving up enough money for the War College. That's the beauty of it, Akua. I know you're Highborn and all, so you probably eat children's liver for breakfast or something, but just _look_. See that old man with the stall? At the end of every week, he'd bring over his leftovers to the orphanage. See that tavern with the sign? The Rat's Nest? I used to work there. The place's still standing, fancy that. It looks like Harrion's done well. He tried to marry me off to his son, did you know that? I practically ran the place. Harrion's not so good with his letters and numbers…"

I rambled, and Akua listened with a painfully tolerant expression. I blew a puff of smoke into her face. She coughed, frowning. That'll teach her to look down on the commonfolk.

In the gardens, a patrol of soldiers saluted me. I waved back.

"What use is power, if you have nothing to spend it on?" I said, returning to my room. "What use is anything, if you have no goal?"

"An end without the means to reach it is worthless."

"Diabolist to the bone," I said. My words had no venom behind them. Hatred was wasted on a rival that felt no regret, and Akua had not regretted any of it except losing. And given what she had gained through her loss, Akua was fond of telling me, she was no longer sure she regretted losing.

"I'm going to miss you," I said.

Akua squeezed my hand, and I bit down on the twinge of heartache that reverberated through our bond. It wasn't fair that we would be separated again after coming together for so short a while.

"Just a few months, my love, and then we will have all the time in the world."

"Even a day would be too long," I said. "Marker. **I compel you to answer my questions truthfully and completely.** "

For a second nothing happened. Akua looked puzzled. Then her face turned tranquil.

"We've done this before," she said.

"Have you walled off any memories or knowledge, or considered doing so?"

"I have not."

"Do you have any holes in your memories?"

She concentrated.

"I do not."

"Have you plotted or acted against my interests?"

"I have not."

I paused, observing her reaction. Her expression was smooth and without emotion. Winter had formed the basis of our contract, and ever since Sve Noc devoured it, our bond had weakened. I wasn't sure how much power I had over her anymore. But she was still forced to obey my commands, and I was certain she couldn't lie to me, at least not when I Spoke.

"What do you think I'll do after killing Malicia?"

"Your motives are painfully obvious. Whether the Dead King retreats or not, with Callow, the drow, and Praes under your control, you'll be the supreme power on Calernia. You'll use that to leverage the Liesse Accords."

"What do you think my plans are for Praes?"

"You have no desire to become Dread Empress, yet breaking up Praes would be a nigh-impossible task. The simplest method is to install a puppet Tyrant."

"Do you have any idea who that might be?"

Her lips quirked. "Oh, I have a very good idea indeed."

"Has that affected the advice you've given me concerning Malicia and the nature of her contract with the Dead King?"

"I did not manipulate the facts to trick you into warring against Praes, if that's what you mean."

It would've been a _tour de force_ to scheme that far ahead, even for Akua. I had never really doubted her – straight-up lies were not part of her repertoire. Why bother, when there were so many ways to tell the truth?

"Have you ever planned to betray me, or plan to do so in the future?"

"The first, yes," Akua said reluctantly. "The second, no."

"Do you love me?"

A heartbeat. Astonishment came over her, then she laughed, and I felt foolish.

"As much as one can love another."

She took my head into her hands and kissed me. I broke away just long enough to murmur, " **From the word 'Marker,'** **you will remember this conversation as bedroom talk."**

With a shudder, she returned to reality to find my lips against hers. I didn't feel bad for deceiving her. She would've expected me to have safeguards. In fact, she would've been disappointed if I hadn't. That would've meant I thought her harmless, and there was no greater insult to a Praesi. She moaned softly as my hand ran down her back. I pushed her backwards onto the bed.

"My, my, someone's energetic today. Don't you have a nation to rule?"

"It's our last day together," I said, unbuttoning the clothes I had put on what seemed like minutes ago. "Let's end it on a note to remember."

* * *

The moon hung round and lovely as Akua and I headed down to the garden – I, by foot, and she, leading her horse. The destrier was not the fastest or largest or strongest, but it had been bred for long-distance work, and Akua's destination was far indeed. I had been surprised to find she was a capable rider. Horses were rare in the Wasteland. But that was precisely why she had been forced to learn, she told me. Wealth necessitated luxuries.

Indrani was already waiting by the gate. Her face caught the moonlight as she turned towards us, all sharp eyes and aquiline features. For a moment, we could've made a painting: three shadows on snow. Then she broke out into her tavern-girl grin.

"I could hear you two from the kitchens."

"She's quite skilled, isn't she?" Akua said pleasantly.

"Did she do that thing where she – "

"It's time to go," I said hastily. "You got everything?"

Indrani tugged on her satchel. Within clinked the unmistakable sound of bottles. "Just two," she said under Akua's disapproving stare.

"Make it three."

Eyebrow upraised, she caught the silver flask I tossed her.

"Iserran brandy."

She laughed and lifted me off by feet, once again catching me off-guard with the strength in that body. She smelled like earth and hard liquor. I hugged her tightly.

"Stay safe. If anyone can bring Masego back, it's you."

She touched our foreheads together. "I enjoyed our time together, Cat. Even if it was only one night."

"It's not you. I was – "

"Pining for a forbidden love," Indrani said melodramatically. "You don't need to justify anything to me, Cat. I knew where your heart lay, even if you didn't."

She kissed my cheek, and it would've made a heartbreakingly perfect farewell, and of course she had to ruin it.

"You know, I got thinking. I'm going on a right proper quest, aren't I? Trudging through some monster-infested realm to save my damsel-in-distress and all that. What does every quest need?"

"A dragon?"

"A chaste heroine," Akua said drily.

"A _reward_. Saving Masego's great and all, but I would be a lot more motivated if there was something waiting for me back home, you know? Now, as I was packing, I found another bottle of Atalantian wine in the most unlikely of places, and I would've opened it then and there, but then I thought of you, and what kind of friend would I be if I drank it while you two made do with that pitiful Callowan rotgut? You know how selfless I am. So I got to thinking, how about the three of us drink it when I get back? Purely in the spirit of companionship, of course, but you know how strong that Atalantian stuff is, and if the night heads down that road…"

I covered my face with my hands. Indrani grinned slyly, as if she had been _clever_. I glanced at Akua. She shrugged.

Somewhere a cricket chirped.

"Fine," I said reluctantly. "If you make it back safely, I'll consider it."

Indrani's face lit up, and I was eating my words already, but in that moment I could've believed she was invincible.

I raised my staff. The portal to Arcadia opened, dark and thundering. Without a backwards glance, Indrani stepped through.

"I fear she'll return even if she needs to burn all of Creation," Akua said.

"It's time to go," I said.

Neither of us moved. The night was silent save the hooting of owls. Laure lay under a sheet of snow, foot-deep and crisp. The wind carried the scent of watercress from the lake. I shivered. Akua wrapped her cloak around me, and though there was no warmth in that body, I leaned into her anyway. Behind us sounded the midnight bell. Somewhere to the East a Tyrant plotted, somewhere to the North a King waited, and somewhere to the West a Prince slept fitfully. Around them all danced a Bard stringing a tune she had begun composing since the first chords of Creation. Here there were only us.

"It's time to go," Akua said regretfully.

She mounted her horse. She had brought nothing with her. After all, she didn't need to eat or drink. I took her hand. There was so much I wanted to say to her, so much more time I wanted to spend, but the world didn't stop for lovers, no matter how belated. She dipped low, and we shared one last kiss.

"Farewell, my love."

"Go forth, my weapon, and bring the Tower to its knees."

She rode into the night. I savored the taste of tangerines.

* * *

In the end, it took us into the better part of next month before my army was ready to march. It wasn't the number of troops, because we still had enough, and it wasn't because they were tired, even though they grumbled, and it wasn't even because of the dwarves, who still tried to short-change us for every pauldron even though I had quite literally defeated an empire for them. It was the supply logistics that delayed us again. Our journey to the Wasteland would be a grueling, months-long affair, and figuring out how to keep my army fed during that time had made me miss Ratface more than ever.

At last the supply situation was dealt with – rather elegantly, if I do say so myself – and at last my soldiers buckled their dwarven armor and sheathed their new dwarven blades. At last, Callow set out for war.

We marched through the flat grasslands west of Laure. We marched through Summerholm and its bridge over the Hwerthe river, and our boots trampled over the muddy, slush-filled Fields of Streges. Wherever we passed, citizens cheered us on. Morale was high. This war was a long time coming, my soldiers sang. _For every slight there is a price. Ours will be long and paid twice._ They spat on the Fields where they had been crushed three decades ago, even as they took off their helmets at the Callowan pennants somehow still raised in the mud.

I had segregated my army on purpose. Most of the former Legion – including all of Marshal Grem's forces – I left behind under the command of Duchess Kegan. The Dead King was bound to get desperate once he learned I was after Malicia's head. The Legion's fealty lay behind Black, not Malicia. My soldiers would not contend a direct order from their queen, and neither would Grem's forces rebel against the hand that had saved them from being lynched. Still, I didn't want to try their loyalties. I knew more than most how deeply home tied you. I only brought along the mages, who I could not do without, and the goblins, who were already rebelling against Praes anyway. The Order of the Broken Bell formed the vanguard, silver armor glinting off snow, followed by the footsoldiers singing their songs, and finally my drow slinking silently in the rear.

"It'll be a good battle," Juniper said as the walls of the Blessed Isle came into view.

That barren fortress formed the only route across the Wasaliti River. It sat upon an enormous plateau of unscaleable rock, with massive stone bridges linking to the ground on either side. Fifty years ago, it might've stopped us. During the Conquest, the Order of the White Hand – its garrison – had been bombed by goblinfire, and even now the memory of that massacre burned in the blackened stone. High Lady Abreha, in her forced governorship of the Blessed Isle, had at least tried to patch up the collapsed walls with sandbags, and her household guards stared at us grimly across what could generously be called parapets. They stared as if staring at death.

Pathetic as it sounded, Abreha's troops were the second-largest force currently mobilized in Praes. Most of the Legions had been sent West to fight the Crusade. Only three Legions remained behind. One had been annihilated along with Thalassina in Warlock's ill-fated defense. One had been sent south to fight the goblins, and was losing badly. The last Legion, under command of Marshal Nim, remained in Ater to keep pretense of Malicia's rapidly slipping grip. Abreha's two thousand household guards formed the largest army between us and Ater.

We numbered fifty thousand.

"That 'fortress' couldn't even stop a group of War College trainees," Juniper said. "They'll hold for an hour, tops, twenty minutes if we bother softening them up with siege. Your Callowans are as thirsty as a pack of bloodhounds."

"And how do you feel, fighting against your homeland?"

"Don't forget," Juniper said, baring her teeth. "My mother was killed by goblin steel."

Shielding my eyes from the sun, I squinted at the guards shivering on that snow-covered fortress. And they _were_ guards, more used to keeping peace within Aksum's walls than true battle. I doubted if any of them had ever fought anyone who wasn't an unarmed civilian sniveling in the dirt. I stood in that most rare of positions for a villain: the advantages of both military might and of Story. Between me and the Dead King, there was no question of who was the lesser Evil. For once, the Heavens would be on my side. I hope they choked on their rage. This battle was unlosable.

"There will be no battle," I said.

The gates opened. Out strode a dozen guards, Lady Abreha at their head.

I rode alone to meet them.

"Your Majesty," Abreha said.

She was, like all Highborn, remarkably good-looking. But I had seen too many of them by now. There were only so many ways you could design almond eyes, high cheekbones, perfect teeth. She had neither Akua's allure nor Malicia's sheer stunning. She was, I thought, remarkably forgettable.

Neither was she a commander. Those hands had never held a sword. My eyes fell on the man by her side, who carried himself with the air of someone used to being obeyed. His armor was beautifully polished without a single scratch on it, but he wore it as if it were a part of him, and his hands rested easily on the hilt of his sword. Black eyes, one of which bore a jagged scar, met mine unflinchingly. He sneered. This one would be an opening.

"Have you received my messenger?" I said.

"I have, though she merely left us your terms before riding out."

"Your response?"

"There is room for negotiation."

"There isn't," I said simply. "Either you let us pass or you die."

"Bold words from an up-jumped orphan," the man snapped. "You speak to the High Lady of Aksum. Did they not teach you manners at your orphanage? We've crushed countless pathetic Callowan rebellions before. We'll do so again with ease."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. How very like the Heavens to send someone so vapidly evil even I seemed like a hero in comparison. Up-jumped orphan? He was practically begging for said orphan to run him through.

"Believe me, I have no desire to fight you," Abreha transitioned smoothly, "though I will not shy away from it, should it come to that. My army may seem paltry compared to yours, but our demons, you'll find, will more than make up the difference."

My bark of laughter hit her like a slap. "You have a pack of devils you hastily bound the minute you heard I was coming. The worst of your tricks are locked in the basements of your city, and let me remind you, I've killed demons before. I'll be clear: you are a twig across my path. I can aim my trebuchets and scorpions at your tower of sticks from a thousand yards out. I can have my drow murder your entire garrison while you sleep. Frankly, I can take out the whole lot of you by myself. This is not a negotiation. This is a surrender."

"You arrogant peasant," the man snarled, drawing his sword.

I shifted my staff. A haze rippled in the air. From my shadow sprang a dozen drow. They were painfully slow in the daylight, but even the slowest _dzulu_ was faster than your typical soldier, and I had chosen my most powerful Mighty for this trick. Before the man's sword had left its sheath, Mighty Rumena's hand closed around his throat. His eyes bulged liked overripe grapes. The weapons of my other drow similarly rested at the necks of the remaining guards.

"Let's not turn this surrender into a slaughter," I said lightly.

"It's true." Abreha chuckled softly with joy. "You lead the Empire from the Everdark."

"Pack of rats," the man somehow spat even as he was being choked. I had to admire his tenacity. "Give the word, my Lady, and we'll end these worthless – "

"Shut up," Abreha said. Her eyes flickered to me. "How many?"

"Twenty thousand drow. Along with twenty-five thousand battle-hardened Callowans, five hundred mages, and five Legions' worth of siege," I added helpfully. "And five thousand heavy cavalry."

She fell to her knees.

"Let us join you, Your Majesty. Your power has no equal on the continent. Together, we can oust that false Tyrant."

"My Lady, you can't be serious – "

"If he talks again, pop his head," I told Rumena. "Now, now, Abreha, far be it from me to reject allies, but your troops are a drop in the bucket, and you Praesi have a reputation for backstabbing, as you just so eloquently demonstrated. Why shouldn't I just kill every single one of you and be on my way?"

"We are familiar with the Wasteland, and we can speed up your march. Your troops need food and water, correct? We will pass Aksum. I offer the full hospitality of my city. I am also personally familiar with the defenses around Ater, including the Tower. Your victory is assured, but I can help you greatly lessen your losses. All I plead for in return is that once you stand at the Tower's top, you remember who was your first and truest ally."

I pretended as if I was debating it. I had my own reasons for this entire charade to keep her alive, and it wasn't because I had a soft spot for Praesi. Abreha's proposal was almost certainly made in good faith, or as close as you got to it for a Highborn. She had no love for Malicia. As leader of the Moderates, she had made her own designs against the Tower, before Malicia outmaneuvered her and "gifted" her with governorship over the Blessed Isle. For months, she had stewed on this godsforsaken rock, ruling over cows and refugees. She would've turned at the slightest chance to topple Malicia, and I had demonstrated more than a slight chance.

"Your allegiance is accepted. You'll be placed under command of my Adjutant. Gather your guards and all your supplies. We will rest here for the night. We march three hours before dawn."

With a sweep of her skirts, she bent forward and kissed my hand. So falls the first domino, I thought as my troops funneled into the gates. The rest would be up to Akua.


	7. Interlude: Traitors

Interlude: Traitors

Wolof had seen better days. A quarter of the city lay in shambles after Sargon's uprising, a full half of its citizens dead by the Madness demon he unleashed. The lesser devils still haunted Wolof's back alleys. In their final hour, when they realized defeat was certain, Tasia Sahelian's loyalists had tried to escape by blowing a hole through the outer wall. The hole was still there, absurdly covered by a patch of canvas.

The wind that poured through was felt in every corner of the city.

Once, upon stepping past the gates, the first thing a traveler saw was the twenty-foot statue of Naya Sahelian, the second Dread Empress and first usurper. No trace of the statue remained. The plaza itself had been the site of the most bitter skirmish of the rebellion, and its hasty reconstruction in wood and sand-brick made it look more like a Proceran shantytown than the crown of the North. As Akua walked over dirt paths that had once been paved in bronze, she thought she could understand a fragment of what her queen felt for Callow.

The palace was nearly unrecognizable. Half of it had completely caved in, and even now, over a year later, a team of construction workers and mages (the wards in those fallen walls had teeth yet) worked to clear the rubble. At least the west wing had survived, even if that new paint job almost made Akua wish it hadn't. The Sahelian colors of red and gold had been painted over in black and purple. Malicia's colors.

Akua walked up to the gate. The guards held up their spears.

"Halt, traveler. What business do you have here?"

The veil over Akua's face vanished.

"You would block the passage of your ruler? Things certainly have gotten lax since I've been away."

"Lady Akua! I thought – we thought – after Liesse…"

She strode past them. After half a second, they hastily followed, asking her to wait while they fetched Sargon. She ignored them. The halls were familiar to her, and she breathed in the scent of lavender. She had spent twenty years here, studying, gathering allies, perfecting sorceries with Papa. Even her mother could be kind, when Akua exceeded her expectations. And yet things had subtly changed. The statues had shifted. Paintings had been replaced. The palace was quieter than she remembered, almost silent, the only sound the clicking of her heels as she walked through the halls that had once hosted the most illustrious royalty of Praes.

She flung open the gates of the throne room.

Cousin Sargon was in the middle of court. He lounged uninterestedly on the throne, head propped up by a fist. In front of him, seated in lesser tiers, arrayed what remained of the Sahelians: second-cousins and third-cousins so far removed from the bloodline they resembled _mfuasa_ more than Sahelian. Sargon himself had only been sixth in the line of succession. His entire rebellion had been backed by Malicia, the final chain in a link that began decades ago to bring down Akua's mother.

Sargon had been listening to a petitioner, it seemed like, and falling half-asleep. At her entrance, he shot her an annoyed glance.

"Who are you? Why are you disturbing – "

A gasp shuddered through the court. Akua swept her gaze through them. She relished the recognition in their eyes. Impact was needed here – _weight_ , her queen was fond of saying. Akua had never trusted Stories as much as her queen did, but what else could she do in the face of such a captive audience?

"Good afternoon, my fellow traitors."

" _Akua_ ," Sargon said. He stood up, neck arched like a rooster. "We thought you were dead."

"One gets used to it. I see you've been nice enough to keep my chair warm for me in my absence."

It took several seconds for the threat to sink in. Sargon sat down with a sneer.

"Another of Krasi's tricks. Begone, imposter. Your master has no hold here."

"There is a vault in the labyrinths below us," Akua said quietly, "reachable only every second moon through a hidden door in the laboratory. The existence of the vault is a secret kept by the Sahelians for centuries. The only ones who can open it are those from the main family. You have not been able to open it, cousin. Shall we see if I can?"

Sargon's face paled. The court began muttering. There would be no more doubts regarding her authenticity.

"I'm glad to see you back," Sargon said at last through tightly-gripped teeth. "In these trying times, Wolof needs a wise advisor."

"Wise advisor indeed. I shall be sure to appoint one, though I fear you do not qualify."

His face turned red with rage. Akua was quickly starting to see why he had gone for the demon-summoning kind of rebellion over the political one.

"You can't be serious," he spat. "You've been gone for almost two years. You could be an animated corpse for all I know. Your mother is dead. Your father is dead. You have no claim to the throne."

"No claim? You dare to tell the first daughter of a Highborn she has _no claim_? I get ahead of myself. Even if I were a servant's daughter, my claim would be stronger than yours. The only claim that matters is power." She raised her voice, addressing the court. "What has become of Wolof? I walked through its streets, and my heart burned with shame. We used to be the crown of the North. Now I see a city so poor it can't even maintain its walls. The colors of Malicia fly where once had been Sahelian's. Are we vassals now? In two years, we have changed from the most powerful family in Praes to its laughingstock. Will you wallow in poverty for the rest of your lives following the very Lord who dug you into this hole? Once the name Sahelian struck fear into the mind of the Empress herself. Under my guidance, we will do so again."

The court erupted angrily.

"How exactly do you plan to do that?"

"Impudent words from someone who got whipped at Liesse."

"You know nothing of what we've gone through," Sargon said. "The fact that Wolof still stands is a testament to my rule."

"The Black Queen comes," Akua said. "Her army marches on Praes as we speak. She will scour the Wasteland of all who oppose her and choose from her supporters a new Tyrant. I hold the Black Queen's highest council, my fellow traitors. We shall throw in our lot with hers, and together restore Wolof to its former glory."

"The Black Queen. Of course." Madly, Sargon cackled. " _Of course._ The Black Queen defeated you, and instead of killing you, she shackled you like a slave. Now she sends you to goad our surrender."

"Not surrender. Allegiance." Akua observed the faces of the court. Some showed contempt, some showed fear, some showed potential. "The blood of the Tower is betrayal. You know this as well as I. How are Malicia's boots? Was the taste of leather the reason you murdered my mother? I grudge you not for her death. I'm disappointed by what came after. Was this your grand ambition, to beg for scraps from Malicia's table? I fear you would all be richer had you done nothing."

"Derision from the Black Queen's dog," Sargon sneered.

"There is another upheaval coming. This time, the reward is nothing less than all of Praes. In a century, your names shall not be known as the rebels who killed Tasia Sahelian, but as the lords who usurped the Dread Throne itself. We shall bleed Malicia for every insult. We shall execute every fool who had laughed at our name. The Black Queen comes, and upon her tide we shall ride to victory and turn the name Sahelian into a household word that would make all the Empire tremble."

Her words echoed like stones thrown down a well. The ripples they made were trebuchets'. The Black Queen's march filled the mouths of every Praesi; just that morning she had heard children skipping rope to a rhyme: _Catherine Foundling comes to Praes/marching from Callow to the Wastes/First the living/then the dead/How many heads will she take? One, two, three…_

Every lord lay awake at night wondering if it was their heads.

"I grow weary of your tricks," Sargon said. "Seize her."

"One step and you die," Akua said sharply to the guards. "The crime of treason against your ruler is execution."

The guards shifted, looking from Akua to Sargon, Sargon to Akua. The seconds passed, and Sargon's face grew redder and redder until he finally stood up, hands glowing with magic.

"Shall we, _Diabolist_?"

Within her something dark uncoiled. The fragment of Night her queen had gifted her curled around her body like a loving embrace. Hastily, the few in attendance who recognized the scale of that power stepped back. Sargon advanced, tracing runes, the most rudimentary of High Arcana. A spear of fire shot towards her. She dismissed it with a wave of her hand. With as much effort as releasing a breath, she sent out a tendril of Night, and Sargon began to burn.

He screamed, writhing on the ground, covered in black flames. The wards woven into his amulets shattered like glass in a kiln. Akua delighted in his screams like music, in the simple application of power against a weaker foe. Lately she'd grown too fond of her queen's leash. Sargon would burn for as long as she willed it. But her point had been made. Further torture would be a _faux pas_.

The fire vanished. Sargon's clothes – untouched – fluttered to the floor. Nothing remained of Sargon himself except a pile of ash.

Akua sat on the throne she had always been meant to take, and it felt like returning home.

* * *

Within days, she had sent messengers to every Highborn in Praes. She did not trust the Empire's scrying relays – it would be giving Malicia a free ear. Their replies came a week later. Hatar of Okoro flat-out called her a traitor. A few gave their implied support. Most, as expected, remained noncommittal.

It was a testament to Malicia's skill that she still sat on the throne. The sack of Nok, the disaster at Thalassina, the capture of the Black Knight, Callow's bailout of the remaining Legions, the goblin rebellion…any one of those blunders would've sunk a lesser Empress. As is, with the brilliant stroke of getting the Dead King's aid, Malicia barely hung onto her seat. The threat of losing the Dead King had stayed many betrayals. Yet Malicia's position grew more precarious with every day the Black Queen marched. Although the nobles smelled blood in the sand, they still hung back, waiting for others to commit first. Malicia, after all, had weathered similar disasters. You don't get to become the longest-reigning Tyrant in generations without building a reputation.

Malicia sat under a sword hanging by a hair. One cut and the entire thing would impale her through.

Akua missed Catherine. Once she had relished the Game, the fine back-and-forth movements that formed the backbone of Praesi politics, where one wrong word was the difference between an ally and an execution. With the grandest prize of all within reach, the Game should've been more enjoyable than ever. Yet she found the nights of writing letters and striking backroom deals tedious. The Court had fallen far since Tasia Sahelian's death. Under any other Tyrant, a dozen coups would've already been in the works, battling each other as much as the Empress. Akua was insulted. Only _two_ attempts had been made on her life (as if she could be killed). Akua loathed what Malicia was trying to turn the Empire in to. That would be the first thing to fix. Growth necessitated competition.

Her greatest joy came in the twice-weekly scrying sessions with Catherine, but Malicia could always be listening, and their time together had to be cut short to the barest essentials of their war. It amused her, when Catherine had asked her if she loved her. The other questions Akua had expected, but that one she had not. For all her tenacity, her queen had never been able to separate herself from romantic entanglements. She partook too much of love.

And so have I, Akua thought, burying that stab of loneliness.

The last time Akua had been to Kahtan had been when she was seventeen, attending the birthday banquet of Highlord Krasi. Kahtan was neither the richest nor the poorest city in Praes, and Krasi neither the smartest nor stupidest Highborn. He was a man of middling ambition, content to sit back while everyone else tore each other down in their climb. In an era past, he wouldn't have even made a footnote. After Tasia Sahelian's fall, however, he had joined the Moderates, a group almost tailor-made for him, and after the simultaneous destruction of Nok and Thalassina and the royalty therein, Krasi suddenly found himself one of the most powerful men in Praes. Taking to his new position with characteristic deliberation, he had done what he did best: absolutely nothing.

It had taken Akua weeks to be granted audience. She represented the greatest disruption to Praes yet, anathema to someone like Krasi. He had put her off until he could no more. The throne room of Kahtan was styled like a magistrate's court. Oak paneled the floor and walls – wood was a luxury in the Wasteland – with a circular spire that arched high over their heads. Like a criminal on trial, Akua stood at the center of the room, almost completely boxed in by the lecterns of the seven lords in attendance. Highborn Krasi stood immediately in front of her. Arranged circumferentially around Akua were the lesser lords: Lords Talal and Myrin, also of Kahtan; Lord Aravi, who ruled the town of Hospes; Lady Raqira, Malicia's plant from Ater; Lady Ochen, the only noble who had escaped Foramen before the goblins took it; and Lord Naga, former Highborn of Nok, which had been sacked by the Ashurans and even now still burned.

"I was surprised to learn you were alive," Krasi said. "Doubly so that you're now the Black Queen's servant."

Krasi was tall and gray-haired, wearing a rich purple cloak enchanted with so many wards the air around him shimmered. His wariness pleased her. News of Sargon's death and the strange black flame that killed him, unknown to Trismegistan sorcery, had already spread to every mage in Praes. It would be easy for her to kill him, for her to kill all of them, but that would've defeated the purpose of coming here. She needed their alliance – some of them, anyway – not their corpses.

"Are we not all servants to our queens?" Akua said. "It is an easy adjustment, my lords, to go from serving one queen to another."

"You speak of treason," Talal said.

"Such an ugly word, _treason,_ " Naga said. "That deserves the death penalty, doesn't it?"

"Let's hear her out first," Ochen said.

" _Then_ we feed her to the devils," Aravi said.

"I come bearing alliance from the Black Queen, who marches on Ater with an army of fifty thousand. Against her is Marshal Nim's sole Legion of four thousand. You don't need to be an astronomer to understand the numbers here, my lords. Any who stand in her way will only delay the inevitable."

"An army of one million cannot breach Ater," Myrin said. "Marshal Nim knows every crenel of its walls. The Black Queen might as well as throw her army directly into the sea."

"Don't forget the devils," Naga added.

"Come now, Sahelian," Raqira said. That she was Malicia's pawn was an open secret. "The very fact you're here, trying to win our alliance, is proof that the false queen does not believe she can win alone."

"The Black Queen will emerge victorious as surely as the dawn. But she is wise, and she prefers not to fight on the battlefield a war that needn't be fought at all. So I come bearing the gift of mercy. Those who ally with her will find themselves richly rewarded with the spoils. Those who stand against her will share Malicia's fate."

"Empty promises, emptier threats," Krasi sighed.

"What of the Crusade?" Talal said.

"That problem has already been dealt with, though I am not at liberty to reveal the details. Suffice it to say, upon the Black Queen's victory, you will no longer need to worry about the Crusade."

"Thus we trade one invader for another," Krasi said sadly.

Akua resisted the annoyance that almost flickered across her face. Krasi was not technically one of Malicia's loyalists, but his inaction was worse than if he'd been her enemy. After Abreha's exile, Malicia had purposely propped him up as the new leader of the Moderates. The old fool had pretended not to see it.

Yet the others certainly had. They watched her with intensity, and beneath those masks Akua detected the lifeblood of the Empire itself: ambition. Not all of them, she had learned, were as content as Krasi.

"I need not remind you that the Black Queen is undefeated in battle."

"Undefeated against peasants and cattle-farmers," Raqira said. "I must say, Sahelian, I didn't expect you to turn into her lapdog. How badly did she whip you?"

"We both serve our masters, Lady Raqira. The difference is I serve mine willingly, while you are too weak to do anything but."

"You insolent – "

"This is not the place for insults," Krasi said. "Lady Akua, we listen out of courtesy. The Empire has been unconquered for millennia. It shall remain unconquered for millennia more."

"You call yourself Praesi?" Akua said with contempt. "What is the Tower if not built on the back of betrayal? Kahtan is now the second-richest city in the Empire, and yet you still sit back and watch your lessers catch up. You could've been Dread Emperor by now, Lord Kahtan, had you simply _stood up_. Lord Naga, your proud city of Nok was sacked by Ashur, and Malicia didn't even send so much as a single legionary to defend it. You allied with the Moderates out of necessity, but you'll find nobody here will grant you the revenge you seek. Foramen is now a goblin fortress, Lady Ochen. Even should it be retaken, Malicia will seize the opportunity to give the city to one of her supporters over you. Yet you can rule again, and over a territory even vaster. The Black Queen treats her allies generously, and in her alliance you will find all your desires come true."

One by one, Akua met the eyes of the Moderates and found only cool masks well-experienced in the Game. Raqira openly smirked at her. Someone had begun humming _The Tyranny of the Sun._

"Your attempt to fracture us was ill-made," Krasi said. "Above our own petty goals, we are united in seeking Praes's stability."

No other lord spoke. They waited like a drawn breath. This could go on for a very long time, Akua realized. Weariness seized her. She wanted to be with her queen, not this assemblage of failed ambitions lead by a man so impotent he couldn't even decide which hand to use when _polishing his sword_. Akua had learned this from her queen: If you had a big stick, sometimes the best thing to do was to swing it.

"The Black Queen comes."

Krasi coughed politely.

"The Black Queen comes with the largest army Praes has seen in a century. As her commander, she has Juniper of the Red Shields, the most brilliant military tactician since Grem One-Eye. Riding with them is the Order of the Broken Bell, once Legion-smashers, the largest heavy cavalry force on Calernia, against whom magic might as well as be water. Calvary will be useless in a siege, you say? You are correct. That's why the Black Queen brings the greatest siege unit on the continent: trebuchets which can launch stones half a league, Spitters that can lob goblinfire, ballistae that can fire a dozen bolts without pause. And let us not forget the twenty-five thousand Callowans, those humble peasants and cattle-farmers, and you might think them poor, but I have seen a Callowan lynch another because his grandfather had stolen a goat. I need not remind you of Callowans and their grudges."

"All this is common knowledge," Krasi said.

"The Black Queen comes leading an army from the Everdark. Have you ever seen a drow? Their weakest can slay a dozen legionaries. Their strongest rival Named, and I have seen the Black Queen herself at the height of her power brought low by a single drow. She leads an empire's worth. They are invisible, soundless, and they can slit every throat in an army within a single night."

"Mere gossip," Raqira said.

"The Black Queen comes, and upon her shoulders perch two _goddesses._ "

"Will you quote the Book of All Things next?" Raqira mocked. "Are bedside tales all you have left?"

"Ater has broken greater armies," Krasi said.

Gods Below, those two were infuriatingly dull. Krasi and Raqira could not be convinced even if their heads were mounted on pikes. Neither would her queen welcome the blind. They didn't even see the pit of vipers they had fallen in to. Akua glanced at the others, who still had not spoken a word. Their eyes shone like wet stones. The web was almost complete. She had swung the stick. Now all that was left was the carrot.

"You have heard, of course, of Lady Abreha," Akua said.

"The traitor," Raqira said.

"She used to lead the Moderates, did she not?"

"She lost her position when she betrayed Praes," Krasi said. "She is not missed, I assure you."

By you and nobody else, Akua thought. Abreha had been the founder of the Moderates and its most influential member, before she took one step too far and Malicia effectively exiled her to the Blessed Isle. Her departure had carried away debts and promises Krasi was woefully unprepared to fulfill. No matter what Krasi said, the Moderates had followed Abreha far longer than they had followed him.

Here lay the genius of her queen: if Catherine had killed Abreha, the Moderates were lost to her. All the royalty of Praes would be lost to her. She would only have ever been another invader. Instead, she had swayed Abreha to her side, and so proved she would climb the Tower by the Tower's own rules. Callow, after all, had once been part of the Empire, and every child born under the Empire's rule had a claim to that highest of thrones. Krasi failed to recognize that decree more sacrosanct than written law: This was not an invasion.

It was an insurrection, and power between Tyrants had never transitioned peacefully.

"When this war is over," Akua said, "in addition to Aksum, Lady Abreha will rule over Okoro and half the Northern Steppes."

Raqira chuckled. "And when Abreha is dead, I shall be sure to take care of Aksum in her stead."

"I grow weary of this empty debate," Krasi said. "I had hoped you would come bearing something other than swords. Leave us, Sahelian, and tell your master she will find no allies with us."

"But my Lord Krasi, I don't need all of you. I only need, say…two."

Her words were met with dim incomprehension. What followed was swift and brutal. Ochen was the first to act, drawing her sword and running it through Myrin next to her. Ochen was, in turn, brought down by a bolt of lightning from Talal's palm. Raqira sprang forward, a hidden crossbow in her wrist aimed at Akua. The arrow met a wall of Night. Before Raqira could fire again, Aravi's sword pierced her chest. Aravi's expression of triumph turned to screams as lightning ate his flank. Turning to flee, Krasi stumbled over a corpse. Naga bent over him, and there was a slick _squelch_ , and only Naga rose.

"Gods help us," said Talal of Kahtan.

"Let us see how Malicia likes it," said Naga, Highborn of Nok, "when _her_ city is getting sacked."

"You've chosen well," Akua said, and felt a scorch of pride. Praes, that old empire, had teeth and claws yet. "Come, my fellow traitors. We have an Empire to unravel."

* * *

Ater's throne room was familiar territory, even though the last time Akua had been here had been, gods, back when she was still Heiress. The room lay on the twenty-fourth floor of the Tower. Up here there were only clouds. Black marble walls stretched to a ceiling impossibly high, while the floor was covered tile-to-tile with mosaics of the Empire's greatest victories. Today, every noble of any importance was present. Dressed in multicolored tunics and elaborate jewelry and more than a few live animals – let it not be said that Praesi were not exorbitant, even in the middle of a war – they formed a silent masquerade before the dais, upon which sat the throne, upon which sat Dread Empress Malicia, First of Her Name.

This was not a court Malicia had wanted to hold. Wolof, Aksum, Kahtan; Aker, Okoro. She was outnumbered. Petitions had been signed. Votes had been cast. Protests had been arranged. And so the court had convened.

The vizier called Akua's name. She rose gracefully, the red-and-gold folds of her dress trailing behind her as she strode up the dais. All of Praes fell beneath her heels.

Malicia looked down at her, expression beautifully neutral.

Akua bowed.

"The Black Queen comes."

* * *

A/N: Final chapter up next.


	8. Let Us Be Wicked

Chapter Eight: Let Us Be Wicked

We marched through desert that was like an ocean. Though Abreha's routes helped us travel faster, we were still much slower than I expected. The sun was an omnipotent presence in the Wasteland, making armor burning to the touch, and more than one Callowan dropped from heatstroke. Even worse was the effect on the drow. They marched as sluggishly as old men, and around noon could barely stand upright. The bulk of our progress had to occur during dusk and dawn. The landscape never changed, sand upon sand upon sand, and for days at a stretch I wondered if we had not been stuck in the same place we started. Our supplies reached the point of rationing. My soldiers no longer sang songs.

Fortunately, our march was singularly tedious. We encountered no resistance except the occasional skirmish with devils and beasts. Troops were scarce enough in Praes that Malicia wouldn't toss them at us in the open. I received word from the west: The Dead King had abandoned his attack on Procer, instead sending all his undead across the narrow strip of mountain between Hainut and the Golden Bloom – into Callow. He was desperate to reach us before we reached Malicia. For now, the pass was being held by the Watch and the remaining legionaries. Duchess Kegan told me in no uncertain terms that they wouldn't last.

If my insurrection failed, all was lost.

(To the south, rumors whispered of a meteor that had struck Iserre, obliterating Procer's reserve forces and a great chunk of the army of the Free Cities. The survivors spoke of a mad mage who summoned devils from the crater. I could not afford to be afraid. Let Indrani and Masego find each other. This was my only way to help them.)

On the outskirts of Aksum, Abreha provisioned us with food and water. For a night, we feasted, and resumed our march with our supplies full and our spirits higher. A week out of Ater, Wolof's guards of two thousand joined us, also carrying a full supply caravan. They were led by a woman who bore a passing resemblance to Akua. The sight of those features filled me with longing. I had not been this far apart from Akua since I bound her soul. Even during our journey through the Everdark, Akua had at least been close to me, even if we couldn't sleep together. We would be reunited soon.

Three months after we left Laure, my army reached the gates of Ater.

How could I describe that which defied description? Ater was not so much a city as an absence. Except for the Tower that climbed beyond the clouds, we couldn't even see the city itself. Immense walls, at least fifty feet at their lowest point, rose straight from the sand. The walls were pure black – Praesi had a thing for that color, I'd noticed – and seemed to be devouring the light as I watched. Which I wouldn't put past it. There were more wards in a square foot of that stone than all of Vale. Rows of crossbowmen watched our approach. A long horn sounded.

"I hope Akua does her job," Hakram said. "If we have to breech those walls, it's going to be bloody."

"I don't trust Sahelian any further than I can throw her," Juniper said, her tone eager. She had spent weeks preparing our assault. "On your word, Warlord. We're ready to attack the moment night falls."

Hakram turned out to be closer to the truth. Shortly after we made camp, the gates of Ater opened, and out strode our welcoming party.

Naga and Talal I recognized from Akua's descriptions. The other two Highborn I didn't recognize – Akua must've expanded her influence since our last scrying. But even at a distance I could make out the gargantuan form of Marshal Nim. An ogre like Hune, Nim had the same strikingly intelligent eyes set in a flat, broad face. This was the first time we'd ever met. I had heard stories about her battles. Her Legion's name was Hammerfall. She was not an opponent I wanted to fight defending Ater.

"Black Queen," Naga said, his eyes darting to the crows on my shoulder. "It's a pleasure to meet you at last."

"Where is Akua?"

"She awaits you in the Tower." He seemed taken back by my question.

"The city is yours," Marshal Nim said. Her voice was deeper than Hune's, but still much too high for that lumbering frame. Akua had assured me that despite being charged with the defense of Praes, Nim bore no personal loyalty to Malicia. That was the problem with letting your Black Knight do all the work. Callous as it was to admit, Black getting captured worked out for me. Between me and Malicia, there was no doubt whose side he would take, and between me and Black, there was no doubt whose side the Legions were on.

"Then what are we waiting for?" I said.

I brought with me Hakram and an honor guard of five thousand. I didn't expect to use them, but the Tower was full of nasty surprises. My soldiers stared at Ater with a mixture of awe and hate and more than a little disappointment that they wouldn't be tearing the city down brick by brick. Nim's soldiers eyed us warily. As we rode, the Highborn pestered me for favors. They wanted cities, gems, troops, tax rebates, and each of them, according to them, had been instrumental in acquiring Malicia's surrender. By the time we reached the Tower, I was already sick of them, and I wasn't even Empress yet. Not that I planned to be Empress for long.

I had only been to the Tower once, when Black took me there shortly after I became Squire. From a distance, it looked like a needle, and it wasn't until you got close you realized that the needle could fit several buildings inside. Twice the Tower had been destroyed, and twice the Tower had been rebuilt, taller than before. The first time I came, I had stared at it like a farmgirl on her first day in Laure. Yet after Keter, the Tower was not as impressive as I remembered. The stone stairs leading up to the gate were carved in the likeness of weeping men and women, and my leg ached terribly by the time I reached the top. That would be my first decree. Get rid of those goddamn stairs.

A face emerged from the smooth obsidian of the gate. The demon looked at me, scowled, and opened.

Behind it stood Ime, Malicia's spymistress, but I wasn't looking at her.

Akua wore a violently red dress adorned with yellow the color of sand under the sun. She stood regally, face perfectly calm as our eyes met, and a momentary twitch of her eyebrow was the only betrayal of the desire that knifed through both of us. The proud face was as I remembered and the golden eyes were as I remembered, and I had a spasm of longing so strong it took the breath out of me. Almost unconsciously, I stepped forward.

"Stop," Ime said. "Not a step further."

I raised an eyebrow.

"The crows," Ime explained.

"Malicia doesn't like birds?"

"They cannot enter."

"And who are you to tell us what to do?" Andronike said. The Highborn stared with their mouths open.

"I apologize," Akua said. "Malicia was adamant about this condition."

"I don't like this," Hakram said. "Malicia's desperate. You don't know what she's up to."

It was not entirely unexpected. The crows swayed the balance of power too much for real negotiation. Not that I planned to negotiate anything with Malicia, but sometimes, pretenses had to be kept. I looked at Akua.

"To the best of my knowledge, Malicia hasn't prepared anything," she said. "I believe she's simply being prudent."

"You heard her," I told the crows. They squawked angrily, and Komena pecked at my nose. "Ow! Just look at it through my memories later."

"Stay alert, First Under the Night. Your service is not yet over."

They flew away over the buildings. As much as I hated to admit it, I felt vulnerable without them by my side. It would be villainous arrogance to think Malicia would take surrender lying down. Still, I had my staff and Akua besides. Malicia wasn't even a mage. Neither would killing me stop my soldiers. She must've had something else planned. What was one last small gamble in a string of enormous ones?

Ime motioned for me to enter. I _tsk_ 'd.

"I gave up my crows. It's only fair Malicia gives up something in return. You're staying here."

"As you wish," Ime said with suspiciously little protest. She stepped out, and I stepped in, and the gate closed behind us.

The moment we were alone, Akua swept me into a kiss. Hungrily, I pressed my hand into the small of her back, forcing us closer. Akua smelled of something sweet and something bitter, and I hadn't thought it possible to get drunk on just perfume. She had recently drank wine just for me. I tasted every drop on her tongue. The torrent of emotions spilled over: desire and rapture, regret and yearning, mine and hers. It ached so bitterly that I was filled with rage, that anything had separated us. I had half-torn apart her dress before I regained control.

"Later," I said, gasping for breath.

Shuddering, she stepped back, dress reknitting.

"You've given Malicia my terms?"

"Of course."

"I'm surprised she rolled over so easily. She must know we're after her head."

"She believes she has one last card to play. Be careful, my love. A Tyrant is never more dangerous than when cornered."

We crossed the antechamber and the room of mosaics and the Hall of Screams, that delightful gallery where hung the heads of failed usurpers. Once, I had been terrified of it. Now, not a single head screamed when I strode though. The second floor was an open terrace. Akua whistled, and down flew the bat-winged creature that would take us to the twenty-fourth floor. Why do something plainly – like stairs – when you could do it expensively, flamboyantly, and pointlessly? Uttering a command in Dark Tongue, Akua took the reins, and I gripped her tightly, and if my fingers fondled her breasts now and then, well, that was to be expected on such a turbulent flight.

"Remember the last time we were here?" I said when we reached the throne room.

"I tricked you into breaking Unonti's finger and almost stole your command of the Fifteenth," Akua said, squeezing my hand. "Gods, we were young back then."

I pushed open the doors.

On her throne, Malicia looked every inch a queen. She was still the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, but I could see her enchantments for what they were now; and though she still looked beautiful behind them, she looked tired. The room was empty, all the more because it was large enough to fit several hundred people. It was strange to think that months of work had led up to this moment. That sixty thousand soldiers had marched across half the continent as show to force a meeting. I limped across the floor, staff clicking against a hundred Praesi victories. The balcony had been opened. A slight breeze blew in, wonderfully cool. More than one Tyrant had been pushed to their death over those rails.

I lit up my pipe.

"Catherine," Malicia said.

"Your Most Dreadful Empress," I said with a sweeping bow, so low it couldn't be anything other than mocking.

"Where is Ime?"

"Alas, she was consumed by guilt over the crimes she had committed and elected to remain behind."

She smiled as if we had shared a joke. "Shall we get to business?"

 _What are you after?_ Languidly, I blew smoke into the vaulted ceiling. Malicia knew I wanted her dead. Yet she still opened the Tower's gates. I had expected her to lock herself up as several Tyrants had previously done when they realized their rule was at an end. One of the Irritants had famously locked himself in for ten years. The Tower was a fortress in of itself, and it contained enough bindings to match a devil for every human in Praes. Taking the Tower would be even more difficult than taking Ater. True, simple survival was not in Malicia's nature. To her, life was not worth living if she didn't hold the reigns. But even the threat of locking herself up would improve her position for negotiation. So why had she let me in?

"I'm in no rush," I said lazily. "It's been so long since we last saw each other. In Keter. Where you unleashed the Dead King."

"Are we here to discuss past recriminations? As I remember, you were also trying to get his aid."

"I gotta say, I'm impressed. Not only did you outmaneuver us in Keter, you did it while organizing mass assassinations on Callowan officials."

"It was an easy plot. I'm glad to see you've patched up your spy network since then."

I almost killed her then and there, but Akua laid a hand on my shoulder. Malicia smiled innocently. Had my pipe not been made of dragonbone, it would've shattered in my grip.

"To business," I said. "Give me the contract."

"It is not in my possession."

"You can't seriously expect that to work. Don't tell me you accidentally misplaced the single most important document on Calernia."

"I am entirely truthful when I say it is not in my possession. I well understood the danger of the contract, and so I hid it somewhere protected. Afterwards, I wiped my memory of its location. Not even I know where it is or how to get it."

"How convenient."

"I can recite the contents for you, if you'd like," Malicia said amiably.

 _And lie through your teeth_. Malicia knew that our entire rebellion rested on the chance that the Dead King would retreat after her death. If that chance solidified into certainty, her life was finished. And so she tried to muddle the waters. By locking up the contract and throwing away the key – in this, at least, I believed her – she left open the possibility that her death would not stop the Dead King. In fact, she would probably tell us that killing her would only extend his reign.

"You've effectively signed your death warrant," I said. "There's only one reason you'd go that far. The Dead King's not marching here because he's in love with me."

"You're more charming than you give yourself credit for, dear Catherine. My death will not stop him. On this, you have my word. You can use a truth spell on me, if you like."

"She could've rewrote her memories about that, too," Akua said.

"We've strayed from the point, Malicia. I've come here to kill you. Even if doing so won't turn back the Dead King, too many other events, already set in motion, rest on your death."

"An agreement can be reached." Malicia's enchantments flared, bringing out the color of her eyes, the sharpness of her cheeks, the lining of her jaw and a thousand other perfections made slightly more perfect. Subtly, she brought her arms together, squeezing her breasts. I'd love to say it didn't work on me. Akua's fingers dug into my shoulder.

"I sought the Dead King's aid to stop the Crusade. Well, the Crusade is stopped. It is, in fact, utterly broken. The Dead King holds all of northern Procer, and the Levantines have already retreated to fortify their own borders. I have no more use for the Dead King. His army marches across Callow as we speak. Let us join forces, my dear Catherine, and force him back into his Hell. I would like to say that I've recognized the error of my ways, but that would be an insult to us both. Necessity dictated I seek the Dead King's aid, and necessity dictates I join you against him now."

"You have two Legions, one of which is currently getting turned into Liessen cheese by goblins."

"Are wars won solely on military might? Praes may be short on troops, but it is rich in sheer wealth. We have more gold and gems than the rest of Calernia put together. You may think you can seize it all by killing me, but you'll find that the Highborn are not so easily parted from their coffers. None know the treasuries of Praes as well as I do."

"The Dread Empress turned into a _treasurer_ ," Akua said with disgust. "The previous Tyrants are rolling in their graves."

"You have to try harder than that, Malicia."

"You're inexperienced with ruling, and you have no desire for it. I believe you have some sort of peace plan lined up – " I narrowed my eyes. Malicia shouldn't have known about the Liesse Accords. " – but peace, I fear, never survives itself. For a few years, the other countries will abide. But some harvests will fail while others thrive, and some cities fade where others prosper, and each neighbor will look to his other with envy as the memory of the Dead King fades. You will need an experienced hand to keep the reins of peace steady."

"And we all know how trustworthy you are."

"I can take an oath, if you like, much like the oath that binds Sahelian to you."

"You most certainly will not," Akua said, horrified.

"This is killing you, isn't it?" I said with admiration. "Begging for your life."

"I'd predicted you would go far. How far and how quickly, even I did not predict."

"Out of the goodness of my heart, I'll give you one last chance to change my mind."

Malicia sagged into her throne, the proudest and most powerful woman I had ever known reduced to a beggar. A more sympathetic executioner would've felt pity. I never counted sympathy among my virtues. I remembered the Night of Knives. One by one, Malicia's enchantments flickered out, and it was the first and last time I would see Malicia as she was. Going for the honesty route, then. Her face was a mask of sorrow.

"Amadeus will hate you."

So that was her final card. At his name, my teeth bit hard into the pipe.

"Even at your deathbed, you're still letting Black do all the work."

"If you ever had any love for the man you call your father, if you ever had any respect for what he tried to accomplish, you will not kill me."

I couldn't dismiss Black by saying he'd been captured; that would imply he would never be freed. It would be easy to say he was dead already, but hope burned within me that he wasn't, and I wouldn't shutter that flame, not even for this. It was a subtle card she had played, perhaps the only one she had. She knew she couldn't offer me anything I couldn't take or had already taken. So she appealed to my heart instead.

I leaned on my staff. "Do you remember what you said to me shortly after I established the Ruling Council? I had just publicly hung Governess Ife. You were in your envoy's form – Naibu, I believe her name was. You told me that – "

" – I disliked the publicity of your execution. You should've had Ife silently assassinated, because – "

" – if what you employ is violence, in violence the people will follow," I echoed. "Black had always led by example. Violence was never his primary weapon, but he never shied away from it. I still remember – I still remember the morning he hanged fifty Callowans in Liesse for rebellion. I had been the one who rooted them out. I wanted to look away, but he Spoke to me, and that was the most I'd ever been terrified. It was a harsh lesson, and one I never needed to learn again. You know Black even better than I do, Malicia. As far as Black Knights go, he's quite weak for his Name. As far as tactics go, Juniper and One-Eye both have him beat. As far as politics go, you could talk circles around him. No, Black got where he was – is – by only ever doing one thing, and that is being _ruthlessly pragmatic_. And I will follow."

"So the circle comes around," Malicia said sadly. "He has forged a monster greater than himself."

I raised my staff.

"This is a long time coming."

"It is," she agreed.

There was no pain, that was the weird thing. All I felt was a sensation of cold where it shouldn't be. I tried to call forth Night but it wouldn't come, and I tried to bring up my staff, but I couldn't do that, either. Malicia looked at me with an amused expression. I looked down and saw the blade sticking out of my chest. Runes pulsed along the blade's surface.

Behind me, Akua strode forward.

I stared at her, uncomprehending.

"Oh, my love, you always were blind to those you trusted."

From the balcony sounded a horn: one short blast followed by a long one. Any legionary knew that sound as surely as their own voice. It was the call to battle. The Tower shook. Screams erupted, quickly drowned by the clanging of steel and what was unmistakably the dull _thuds_ of trebuchets. Gods, Nim must've hid siege weaponry in the houses, I realized. My soldiers would be scythed through. In the distance, the gates of Ater closed. From its walls poured forth devils enough to blacken the sky, shrieking as they charged across the sand to where the bulk of my army sat.

"It was unfortunate it had to come to this," Malicia said. "Now, shall we truly get to business?"

But I wasn't listening to her, had forgotten she even existed. My throat was dry. I stared at Akua, who smiled the same smile she gave me when we laid in bed together.

"Why?"

"I was not born to serve, not even you."

"I gave you a choice," I said brokenly. "To be free. You chose to stay."

"That was my decision then." There was no hint of guilt on that beautiful face, not much of anything at all. "This is my decision now."

"I thought you had – " _changed,_ I meant to say, but I realized I didn't think she had. I had sent her to Praes with the expectation she was the same scheming villain she'd always been. Neither had she pretended otherwise. The only difference between now and when I'd first met her was that…

"I loved you," I said, as if those three words could undo everything.

I could not look at her. The room bore the qualities of a dream. The sunlight was too bright to be real, the air too warm, the coldness in my chest plainly impossible. My soldiers could not be dying. My rebellion could not have failed. My nation could not be doomed. And yet it was not even those tragedies that made me want to weep. I had been with several lovers, most casually, a few more seriously, and only now did I understand how far I had fallen into Akua's trap, because this was the first time I had ever felt heartbreak.

"It was all a lie," I croaked.

"Young love," Malicia said affectionately. "As endearing as you two are, we have business to attend to. I'm sure you don't want your soldiers to die any more than they have to."

Even as part of me died, the other part buried it. And the rest of me went insane, joyous laughter reverberating in my brain. I was invincible. There was nothing else that could hurt me. What else could you call that except a god? This was not the time for broken things. I was not Catherine Foundling. I was the Black Queen, and Callow depended on me. I focused on Malicia, ignoring the woman-shaped demon by her side. Gone was Malicia's apprehension, her seduction, her weakness I knew now to be feigned. Arms clasped in front of her, she regarded me like a merchant calculating the price of a sale. I was still alive. Malicia wanted something from me.

"Before we begin, I'm obligated to inform you that the dagger through your heart was the same dagger used by Triumphant – may she never return – to bind demons," Malicia said.

"How nice of you."

"Now that you know, any oaths you take are binding."

"Lovely."

"You will call off this deplorable campaign against me. You will publically declare Callow to once more become a territory of Praes."

"My soldiers will never stand for it."

"Undoubtedly, but I have faith in your ability to quash dissension, dear Catherine. Afterwards, you will take your soldiers south to end the goblin rebellion. Upon the rebellion's successful conclusion, the Army of Callow will be disbanded and assimilated into the Legions."

"I'd rather give those goblins full honors."

"Always so difficult. I give you my word that if you do as I say, no harm will come to Callow – "

"Before we continue," Akua interrupted, "I believe I am due something."

"Of course," Malicia said after a pause.

Akua knelt before the throne. Many times she had assumed the same position in front of me. I smothered the mote of rage. Rising, Malicia placed one hand on Akua's shoulder. The scene was familiar – it was a bastardized version of Callow's knighting ceremony. There was the swearing of fealty and its echo repeated by the aspirant. The words, even spoken quickly, resonated with power. I had read about this many times in Praesi texts. It was a rite held by every other Tyrant in history. Malicia had outlawed it explicitly.

"By the power vested in me as Dread Empress, I name you Chancellor."

Akua's form rippled. I felt the last links of our bond break. She stood up, and she was flesh and blood entirely. Slowly, she spun in place, and even her hair seemed more solid as it streamed behind her. Placing one hand over her heart, she marveled at what she felt there. I knew what it was like, to become human again. Even her clothes had changed: the same red and gold but more vibrant, real thread instead of whatever shadow she invoked. The light reflected off her skin in a way that had not been possible when she was a shade.

I gaped at her.

" _That's_ what you betrayed me for? I would've made you Empress."

"That's where you erred, my love," Akua said. "The title of Tyrant cannot be given. It must be _usurped._ "

Her hand shot out. Her fingers clasped around Malicia's head like a vice, and briefly I glimpsed Malicia's eyes. Resignation, and a deep, penetrating sadness. There was a flash of light. Malicia's body spasmed. Casually, Akua tossed aside the corpse. Where Malicia's head had been was a pile of ash.

"If you're wondering whether I'm surprised, I'm not," I said.

"Truth be told, I doubt whether Malicia was, either." Akua flicked the char from her fingers. "She was caught between a tiger and a viper. She chose the viper. Do you fault her for choosing what she was familiar with? I gave her a swift and violent death worthy of a Tyrant."

"You probably broke some record for fastest backstab done by a Chancellor."

"You sure know how to flatter me," Akua said teasingly. "I do feel like I'm forgetting something. Ah, of course. _Kneel._ "

I fell.

She stood over me, and a force yanked my neck backwards to look at her.

"How does it feel, my love, to be on the other end of the leash?"

Rage flared.

"Don't you dare call me that."

Akua laughed, cupping my chin. "Call you what, my love? You seem to be under the impression I played for you a fool. That I never loved you, that it was all a ruse to gain your trust. Again you flatter me. As good as I am, even I'm not _that_ good. It was all true. Never once have I lied to you. I love you as much as one can love another. The difference is that I was not blinded by my love. You should never trust someone you love, because that is one more weapon to be used against you, the deadliest weapon of all, the weapon you never see coming. The more you love someone, the less you should trust them. You should never have trusted the Black Knight, or Adjutant, or _Dartwick_ , and most of all, you never should've trusted me."

"Sve Noc will eat you alive."

"You think? You misunderstand her. Sve Noc wants a teacher, a herald, an anchor, and those I have no intention of taking from you. You are, after all, my greatest asset. For months now I've felt our bond weaken. Not enough for me to go against you directly, but enough for me to resist some part of your commands."

"Before you left, I Spoke – "

"You asked me if I planned to betray you. I said no. That was true. This is not betrayal. Seizing power is never a betrayal. If an apple lands in your lap, is it betrayal to take a bite? Indeed, _not_ seizing power when the chance presents itself would be betrayal of the worst kind – against my own nature. I would've betrayed you if I loved another, if I sold you out for another, if I left you. I would've betrayed you if I closed off my heart. And that, my love, I could never do."

She circled around me. Once more I tried to draw into Night and found it blocked. I tried to move my limbs but I couldn't do that, either. The dagger in my chest glowed with purple light. Detachedly, I admired what Akua had done. She had been _nothing,_ a shade enslaved in my cloak, and from a position below that of even the poorest serf, she had killed one queen and subjugated another. She had even told me her intent. _I know you have difficulty remaining emotionally uninvolved when in a sexual relationship._ Still I fell for it, even knew I was falling for it, and still I acted surprised at its conclusion. Black Queen? I was more a jester.

From behind, Akua embraced me. My skin crawled as her hands draped over my chest. Her head fell into the crook of my neck, and we stayed like that while below us my soldiers died. Her breasts pushed against me with every breath. She kissed my throat, and I would've preferred she slit it instead. Her fingers unbuttoned the top of my shirt, worming into my breasts. Her other hand slipped down my pants. She withdrew with disappointment.

"You hate me," she accused.

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

She bent down, and my hand that was not my hand squeezed her breast. She moaned. I spat.

"Oh, how I've missed having _flesh_. We shall have many pleasurable nights together, you and I. You will learn to love me again. We are a part of each other, after all. It is only temporary that our bond is broken. It will be made whole again. I told you before, didn't I? We will do great things. As we were meant to. In _three months_ , we climbed the Tower. A sword from the front…"

"…a dagger from the back," I said bitterly. "I handed you Praes on a platter."

"All of Calernia will not sate us." Akua gripped her hand as if holding the world. "You shall have your Accords, but instead of peace they will be turned into a weapon. We command the greatest army on the continent. Our treasuries can buy nations twice over. Our enemies are already broken. The glory of Praes shall be restored, then surpassed. What is this, if not the perfect time to conquer the world?"

"You haven't learned anything, have you?" I sneered. "You're _monologuing._ "

"I'm not gloating, my love. I'm simply sharing my vision."

She strode to the balcony. Wisps of smoke curled towards the sky. Bells rang; a stone must've struck a church. As I watched her turn to the sun, déjà vu struck me: I had been in this position before. Ensnared, completely at her mercy, her victory all but assured. I was seized by a savage joy. Akua had never changed. She was the same arrogant Diabolist she had been at Liesse. She was the beast, the dragon, the evil stepmother. She was the villain from every Story, and she was destined to _lose._

"Is something funny, my love?"

"You seem to be under the grossly mistaken assumption that I'll do whatever you tell me to."

"Oh, but you will." She returned to me, her gaze tender, almost shy. Her voice took on a ceremonial deepness. The blade in my chest quivered. "Swear to me, my love, that you'll follow my every command, that you will never plot against me, that you will bring ruin to my enemies. Swear that you'll protect me with your life, that you shall carry out my plans to the best of your ability, that you will safeguard all that I uphold."

"I think I'd rather eat my own entrails."

"Swear to me that you'll take no other lover, that I will be foremost in your affections, that you'll speak to no other soul about our relationship. Swear to me that you'll be true in good times and in bad, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, and not even death will do us part."

"Go fuck yourself."

"Swear your allegiance to me, my love, because if you do not, all your army shall perish. Swear your allegiance to me, because if you do not, I will burn Callow to the ground and hang upon its ashes everyone you've ever loved. Swear to me, because you know what I am capable of, and you know that you alone are the only one who may be able to restrain me."

Her words echoed in the chamber. I closed my eyes. I didn't deserve this. When had anyone gotten what they deserved? Now I understood why some people took their own lives. It was not the misery of the moment but the misery of the future. There would be no escape _._ Not even death would free me. It hadn't for a while now. Hadn't I always lived according to my principles? I'd done terrible things, yes, but nothing worse than your average villain, and besides, I did it all for Callow. Did the goodness of my intent not excuse my actions, if even a little? (Of course not. _Justifications only matter to the just)._ I couldn't let Akua do as she will. To do so would be to write off the world. I had influence over her still, and I had a responsibility for what I'd created.

Somewhere above, Contrition was laughing. _You sought to blackmail us? You cannot escape your sins. Now you will atone for them tenfold._

"I do."

She kissed me, and something like smoke filled my throat, and a weight heavier than all the chains in Stygia settled over my body. She tore the dagger from my chest. The blade no longer glowed. The wound did not heal. I was, once again, not quite alive and not quite dead.

Her nails dug into that gash where my heart no longer pumped. I did not cry out. She smiled.

"You shall be my Black Knight," she spoke into my ear. "You shall be my Chancellor, my Warlock, my Assassin. You shall be the whole of my seraglio."

"The moment someone figures out what happened here, it all comes crashing down."

"That's the beauty of it. You will walk away from this the victor. You've achieved everything you set out to do. Malicia is dead. The Crusade is ended. The Dead King is turned back. Praes is under your control, and you've installed your pawn as Empress. On the surface, I am the puppet. But we both know who pulls the strings."

"You're going to regret not killing me."

"Oh, my love, I look forward to whatever treachery you have planned."

My legs that were not my legs carried me to the balcony. The city was a maze of fire. Lead by Adjutant, the last of my soldiers formed ranks with their backs to the Tower. Nim's forces advanced under cover of trebuchets and scorpions. The distant sky was a swarm of devils. Beyond even them, an army of the living clashed against an army of the dead (Did it work? Was the Dead King driven back? It seemed to matter so little now). All of Ater lay below us, all of Praes, the entire world. The wind made dancing reeds of my hair. Beside me stood Akua, resplendent. She intertwined her fingers in mine. In a voice that was not my own, I called:

"All kneel for Dread Empress Magnificent, First of Her Name."

The fighting stopped. The soldiers looked up. And they kneeled.

* * *

A/N: I've always liked open endings. Akua is my favorite character in the Guide, and I had a lot of fun writing this. I hope you enjoyed reading, all five of you ;_;


End file.
